


A Sunless Garden

by foolsdance



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolsdance/pseuds/foolsdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say Jensen Ackles is a sadist who buys down and out slaves for the sole purpose of using them for his unspeakable needs.  They say slaves never leave his estate; not alive, at any rate. The first time Jared was sold, he was lucky. This time around, it seems his luck has run out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warning for attempted non-con in a future chapter, not by either major character.

A sweet spring breeze caressed all those who were in attendance that clear May morning, moving through the crowd like a playful house cat. Jared, like many of those not present by choice, was oblivious to the beauty of the day. He was far too preoccupied with keeping the terror that threatened to consume him at bay. Terror that had been building ever since the untimely death of his former owner. Terror that any slave faced with such an uncertain future would be perfectly justified in feeling, but in his case, even more so.

The county auction, held on the grounds of the courthouse, was pretty much the bottom of the barrel as far as selling outlets in the slave trade went. As a general rule, only the dregs ended up here; the old, the sick, the damaged, the rebellious. Slaves not good enough for the reputable dealers with their discrete showrooms and polished, high end goods. Not even good enough for the briskly efficient mid-level markets, catering mostly to factories and farms needing large numbers of warm bodies. 

No, the slaves who ended up here, for whatever reason, could be sure they had almost certainly reached the end of the line. And, unless you were very, very lucky and were bought by a family or small businessman who simply couldn't afford better, your remaining time on this earth was likely to be as short as it was brutal.

Seventy thousand dollar body slaves, for the most part, got quality care when injured or ill, just as the wealthy took care of their expensive Lamborghini and Bentley. Regular food and rest, the basic necessities of life were provided as a matter of course. Seven hundred dollar slaves, on the other hand, tended to be ridden into the ground until there was nothing left. 

Jared knew exactly which category he belonged to. He'd been unbelievably lucky the last time he'd been sold. The odds of hitting the jackpot twice in one lifetime were depressingly low, especially now that he had left small and cute behind him with his childhood. He was still on the smaller side, it was true, and he'd been told his face was “pretty” more than once. When it was invariably followed by a regretful or derisive “if only...,” however, the complement didn't mean all that much.

No one would want him for a body slave. He wasn't physically capable of hard labor and didn't have the education or training for any kind of more cerebral occupation. This left a tiny pool of uses a potential owner would have for someone like him, uses which were almost universally unpleasant, to say the least.

When it was finally, finally his turn on the block nerves prevented him from noticing very much of his surroundings. Jared had a confused impression of a large mass of people milling around him; men, women and children mostly of the lower classes, most of whom were ignoring him completely. That wasn't a huge surprise. What did surprise him were the few looks of pity he saw directed his way.

Maybe there was hope for him yet. 

Maybe someone would feel sorry enough for him that they'd buy him in spite of his problem. He really wasn't as useless as most people thought, after all, and he was a hard worker. He was slow and clumsy, true enough, but surely a willingness to prove himself was worth something? 

The auctioneer called out a loud, ringing, “Sold!”, banging his gavel on the podium with such force that Jared was startled out of his reverie. He stumbled, then, to his horror, felt himself falling face first onto the rough wooden stage.

He ignored the crowd's jeers and laughter as he got to his feet again as quickly as possible, helped by the overseer standing nearby. Oddly enough, the guard seemed almost kind as he did it, the grip on Jared's forearm nearly gentle. Jared knew him, of course, from the few days he'd spent in the holding pens waiting for this very moment. Like most of those charged with keeping order in the pens, the overseer hadn’t been physically abusive to the slaves in his care, no doubt to keep their anticipated low sales price from being driven even lower by extraneous marks and bruises. Then again, he wasn't exactly nice either.

Which made what he did next such a surprise.

“Here, kid,” he said as he led Jared away from the stage towards a holding pen, pressing something into his hand as they walked. Jared didn't look at it, didn't dare, but then again, he didn't need to. It was obvious what he held in his hand.

It was candy. A round piece of hard candy, as rare and precious as gold to the common slave. His former owners, the Harrisons', had been generous with their slaves compared to most. Even so, they were only given sweets at Christmas, and even then it was only one small bag of peppermints. Most of the others managed to make theirs last all year long, doling them out one at a time, as careful as any miser with his treasure. Jared's allotment somehow never lasted past Valentine's Day.

“Sir?” he queried softly, forcing the word out past stiff lips.

Because here, as with most places, very few freemen gave a slave a gift out of the goodness of their hearts. Some of the overseers were notorious for trading small comforts and privileges for sexual favors. If that was what this was all about...

The guard looked back at him then and must have read Jared's question on his face because he smiled grimly. “Just take it. No strings attached.”

Jared nodded and clenched his fist around the candy, even as his mind raced. He didn't have long to speculate on the implications of the small kindness, however, as they were now at the pen.

Mitty, the only other slave from his former household who had remained unclaimed and unwanted at the inquest, was waiting for him there. While she had been sold prior to him, it seemed she had yet to be collected by her new owner.

It was foolish, he knew, to be so overjoyed at the prospect of spending a few more minutes with someone he loved when they'd already said their goodbye's earlier - just in case - but he was. In his first few months at the Harrisons', when anger had fought with grief and sometimes won, she'd been a true friend. The former nanny of the household now rendered mostly useless by crippling arthritis, she'd been put to work in the kitchens to help as she was able, which in truth, wasn't much. Jared later suspected she was as lonely as he was but at the time all he'd seen was a gentle smile and a willing ear.

“Could you see who bought me?” he asked the minute the door closed behind him. “I didn't see, did you?”

Mitty didn't answer right away but another slave, one who he knew only from his time here at the auction house, did.

“Man, you are fucked,” the man drawled, eyes raking down Jared in a way that had him wrapping his arms defensively around his torso

“What do you mean?”

Mattie touched his arm softly, rheumy eyes glimmering in the dappled sunlight.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“Please, just tell me. Was it the mines? Or a brothel? It's not, is it?” These were his worst case scenarios, although he couldn't imagine either place wanting someone like him. There were rumors of hospitals and doctors buying mostly worthless slaves for experimentation and testing, but he was pretty sure those were made up to scare the gullible. 

“No, it's not the mines or a whorehouse. It's worse,” the other man said, whose name he was pretty sure was James. “It's Ackles. Master Jensen Ackles, and you'll be praying for the mines before it's over with.”

“I don't understand,” Jared said, his voice sounding faint even to his own ears.

“He buys little idiots like you so he has an outlet for all the sick and twisted things he can't do to the slaves he actually wants to live out the week,” the slave laughed, a sound totally devoid of humor. “Man, you are literally fucked.”

Jared turned stunned eyes to his friend, hoping for confirmation that this was all a macabre joke. “Mitty?” he asked.

“I'm so sorry, baby. It's true. That man is the devil and that's the truth.”

“He goes through them like tissues,” James added, the sangfroid palpable in his tone. “Sends his agents out all over, looking for them. Cheap, disposable slaves that no one else wants. They never last long so he has to keep a steady supply coming in. Some make it a month or two, some only a day. Or so I've heard. One thing is for sure. None are ever seen again. They aren't sold off, they aren't given away - they just... disappear.”

Jared leaned back on the weathered wooden post behind him and concentrated on remaining upright.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” Mitty repeated helplessly, patting his hand the same way she'd done all those years ago, sitting at the kitchen table together while waiting to be locked up for the night. Jared took her wrinkled hand in his own. 

“Did you go to someone good, at least?”

He knew there wasn't exactly a huge market for elderly, arthritic slaves who had almost no other training than caring for children, but he'd hoped she'd go to a young couple who needed a nanny and couldn't afford any better.

“I'm sure they are very nice,” she said, even as James answered, “It was the Hoffman’s.”

This meant nothing to Jared. At his sharp look James sighed and, at last, showed some sign of human decency. “Haven't heard anything bad about them.”

Off in the distance he heard the announcer call off the last auction of the day, which meant they'd all surely be collected by their various new owners soon. For the first time since he was first sold, back when he was young and stupid and didn't know any better, Jared's mind raced with crazy, idiotic plans for escape, because maybe a few hours of precious freedom followed by a quick death was better than what fate apparently had planned for him. Of course it was useless. Even if he was able to somehow get out of the enclosure and past the guards, his tattoo plainly marked him as property. Without a convincing explanation he'd be returned within minutes.

When Mitty's new owner came to collect her – a tired looking mother with three small children swirling around her feet like miniature tornadoes and another on her hip – Jared had reason to hope his friend would be fairly well treated, if most likely overworked. Before she left his last act of friendship was to press the piece of candy – that he now understood was due to the guard's pity after seeing who his buyer was – into her gnarled old hand. 

Mitty always did love her peppermints almost as much as he.

Then she was gone. The last vestige of his former life gone, just the way it had been that awful day so many years ago.

Jared felt even more alone now than he had back then, the wisdom of age not being always kind. He now understood exactly how bad things could get. 

*

Master Ackles' agent turned out to be a big burly bear of a man, as muscular as he was tall. He barely glanced at Jared before leading him out of the market area to his car in a nearby parking lot. 

“I'm Alan,” he said brusquely, once they were on their way and had made it out of city traffic. “You're Jared, right?”

Jared answered with a respectful, “Yes, Sir.”

Alan grunted as he swerved to change lanes. “When we get to the estate, Carla will take charge of you. She's one of you,” he said and turned to look at Jared briefly, eyes flicking over his slave tattoo, “but you'll treat her with respect. If you don't, you'll answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jared repeated, hoping this was a good sign. Would they bother assigning him to an overseer if he wasn't expected to live out the night? Surely not. It was a flimsy straw to grasp onto but then again, a little hope is infinitely better than none. 

He glanced over at the now silent man next to him. Someone of his physic could do substantial damage to Jared with very little effort. Jared wondered if he was used as a disciplinarian or if Master Ackles preferred to do that all by himself. Master Harrison had been the only one allowed to punish slaves in his former household on the rare occasions that a whipping was deemed necessary, although in truth his beatings had never been all that terrible. Oh, it had hurt, as it was intended to, but from what he'd heard of other owners, Master Harrisons' whippings were nothing in comparison to what could have been administered. 

Mr. Alan was as different from Master Harrison as a pit bull was from a house cat.

Maybe that was how all those other slaves died. Beaten to death by Mr. Alan while his employer watched. Maybe Master Ackles got off on that. Sometimes Colin had liked to shock him by showing him pictures or vids of weird sex stuff just to laugh at his reaction. So Jared was well aware that people got off on all sorts of things, including some that baffled him. Like someone else's pain and fear. 

Jared mentally shook himself, knowing that to give in to wild speculation was to fan the flames of terror that he'd been able to keep mostly banked. Fear was dangerous. Fear led to panic and panic led to stupid mistakes. For the remainder of the trip he concentrated on keeping his mind still and projecting an air of quiet obedience.

Not that he was entirely successful. Independent of his will, Jared's traitorous brain would start drumming up scenarios of what might be awaiting him in the very near future, scenarios that became more and more horrific the closer they got to their destination. By the time they pulled up to the front door of what appeared to be an impressively large mansion, the terror he'd worked so hard to control was a hairsbreadth away from overtaking his good sense completely.

As he got out of the car, following Mr. Alan at a respectful distance, his legs felt disconcertingly weak and shaky underneath him. He really hoped he wouldn't fall – a bad first impression could literally mean life or death in his case.

The front door opened as they neared and the promised Carla was summoned to meet them in the entryway. She was, surprisingly, nearly as tall as Mr. Alan, but so thin he wondered if the slaves here were kept on restricted rations. It was a stupid thing to worry about, maybe, in the overall scheme of things, but Jared's mind latched onto it as a concern that was more manageable than the alternatives. 

Food at the Harrisons' had been plain and not overly plentiful but no one could say they were starved. 

He followed her as she turned briskly on her heel without a word to either of them and left, dimly noting Mr. Alan wasn't coming along, as they went through a confusing maze of rooms and hallways. Jared barely registered the overly ornate surroundings – gold and white and obscenely expensive looking – before he was ushered into the back section of the house, which was much plainer and clearly meant for the use of the household slaves.

“This is your room,” Carla said plainly, without preface, opening a door to reveal a small room complete with bed and dresser. “The morning alarm will go off at six, breakfast is at seven. I'll be back then to show you the way. There are clean clothes in the dresser, be ready when I get here.” She eyed Jared distastefully as she added, “And don't forget to shower. The bathroom's at the end of the hall, you can use it anytime.”

Jared nodded and stammered out his thanks, to which Carla nodded briefly before leaving him standing there in the doorway.

He peered inside the room cautiously before stepping inside. It was a real bedroom, like a freeman had, not the cold, dark basement cell furnished only with a canvas cot many household slaves were given. It was traditional for larger households to keep the majority of their slaves safely locked away at night in either basement or attic, but then again, his new owner was clearly far above his previous owners in wealth and, most likely, status as well. Maybe that was the difference. Maybe it wasn't fashionable anymore for the well off to keep their slaves locked up at nights. 

He carefully kept himself from thinking about his early days with the Harrisons', when he'd shared Master Colin's bedroom most nights and had foolishly believed he always would.

Jared stepped inside hesitantly and eyed the bed. Plain and small, it looked like something sent from heaven to his exhausted body. He suddenly, desperately wanted nothing more than to lie down on it and rest, as he felt the adrenaline he'd been running on most of the day ebbing from his body. But he was sure the others who must be sharing this room with him would be showing up sooner or later and the bed would be reserved for whoever held the senior position in the group. Which would most assuredly not be him. After all, the new guy was always low man on the totem pole. To presume any rights to the bed was to invite trouble, which was the last thing he needed right now.

His best shot at making it through this, so far as he could see, was to keep his head down and try and integrate himself into the household staff. If he could prove himself useful in some way, show himself to be someone worth keeping, there was a chance the Master wouldn't … do whatever he was planning.

Jared wasn't stupid. More than one visitor to his old household had commented on how kind and generous the Harrisons' were to keep Mitty. Some had said the same about him, even though Mitty had told him to pay them no mind. Every disturbing comment, wrapped in a thin veneer of cloying concern, had reinforced the idea that their situation was unusual.

He had been careful not to ask what happened to other slaves who had outlived their usefulness, so sure that hard work and loyalty and above all Master Colin's protection would keep him from joining their ranks. 

More fool him.

He could do this. He could prove himself. He could be whatever was needed and show Mr. Alan, who had judged him a throw away; show his new owner, whom he had yet to meet, that Jared had value and purpose in this world. Even if that “whatever” turned out to be a body slave. If that were the case, he could only hope the rumors of his new owner's perversions would turn out to be false, but even if they weren't, maybe it would be something he could live through. Stranger things had happened.

In the end Jared got tired waiting for his bunk mates to finally show themselves, and sank down in an out of the way corner to rest for a few minutes. As sleep sucked him inexorably under it belatedly occurred to him that his owner could send for him this very night. Carla's words and attitude had implied that he wouldn't but that meant nothing, really. Too exhausted to be kept awake by even this troubling thought, Jared fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

He startled awake the next morning to the sound of a long, loud klaxon, sounding out in the hallway. He blinked, stretched, then suddenly remembered where he was and stood quickly, stumbling a little in his haste.

The room was empty. No one had shown up during the night to take the bed, which might mean it was intended for him. That this room was intended for his use and his alone.

He'd never had a space of his own before. Not even before he'd been sold.

He didn't have time to reflect on this, however, as a glance at the clock on the wall told him he needed to hurry. There was simply no way he could be late for breakfast and show himself to be a lazy slave who couldn't follow simple directions. 

The large white tiled communal bathroom was, predictably, crowded with people. Men and women mingled freely in various states of dress and undress, mostly ignoring one another though there was some good natured ribbing and jostling for position. No one was being molested or attacked – that was an excellent sign of a well run household. Jared tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible nonetheless, slipping in and out of a shower stall as quickly as possible and hurrying back to his room to get dressed. He was pretty sure he felt eyes on him but was careful not to engage with anyone; he was too unsure of the lay of the land and his position here to want to just yet.

Would they know what he was or what he'd presumably been bought for? If so, they were one up on him. Maybe he'd meet someone more approachable than the icy Carla who wouldn't mind giving him a heads up.

Clean clothes were in the dresser, as promised. A range of sizes, ready to accommodate a variety of slaves who might need them. They were standard slave fare - simple cotton tunics and loose drawstring slacks. The household color was thankfully easy on the eye, a soft dove gray. He hoped it hid dirt well. He had a feeling Master Ackles would be no more lenient about stained uniforms than his former owner.

He was ready now, with a full seven minutes to spare. Jared checked the room for any sign of disorder, straightened a bed cover that was slightly askew, then stood in the center of the room waiting.

He was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't ready.

The dining hall was a virtual sea of people, a mass of controlled chaos that made his head ache within a minute of setting foot in the bright open space. Although most of that mass was currently exiting the space, leaving behind only a few stragglers like himself. It seemed the short detour Carla had taken on the way here had been enough to make him late for his first meal here.

If he were very lucky, he wouldn't be punished for his tardiness. Unfortunately Jared had never been blessed with an overabundance of luck.

“This is your table from now on,” she informed him, gesturing at an otherwise nondescript surface, the letter G stenciled in green on its top. “When you're done eating, go through there,” she added, pointing at a set of double swinging doors on the other side of the room. “You're on kitchen duty until further notice.” With that, she was gone, leaving Jared standing there alone in the center of the room.

He noted a serving area set up near the doors she'd pointed out, very similar to the one his school had used way back in the day. Moving quickly he got a tray and a plate and moved through the line while his plate was filled. No choices were offered but Jared was heartened to see the portions were generous.

Jared ate quickly, as he was likely already late and in trouble because of it and there was no sense making it any worse than it needed to be. Still, he hesitated before actually going through the doors after his meal. Just because you know a punishment is likely coming your way and it's best to get it over with quickly doesn't mean feet won't drag when the time is nigh.

To his surprise, however, no one hit him or even yelled at him for his tardiness. Instead he was simply pointed in the direction of the sink and told to make himself useful. The sink was already occupied, in fact, by a slave maybe a few years older than him. She didn't speak as he stood awkwardly by, instead handing him a wash rag and moving over to one side. No slacker, Jared got to work without comment, washing what seemed to be an never ending stack of dirty dishes. His companion rinsed, while a third person, a boy of maybe fifteen, dried. 

Neither of them spoke, so Jared followed suit. Idle chatter while working was probably forbidden. He tried not to dwell on his time at the Harrisons', when Colin had been busy at school and he was expected to keep himself occupied until he got home. He'd spent many hours then doing exactly this sort of thing, but the time was pleasantly spent, as a general rule. There was good natured laughing and gossip, and Mitty would be sitting in a corner watching it all. This – this icy coldness unnerved him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

He was therefore surprised when about an hour into his work day the girl murmured a soft “Hey,” as she took the plate he was handing her.

“Um, hey,” he answered, glancing around surreptitiously to see who might be watching. No one, or so it seemed. Lunch preparations were apparently already underway and the kitchen workers – the other kitchen workers he reminded himself – were too busy to take notice of what was going on in their corner of the kitchen. “Is this okay? I mean, it's not against the rules?”

“What, you mean talking? No one cares, so long as you get your work done. And keep it down, of course. I'm Linda,” she said without looking up from the sink. “That's Robby,” she added with a jerk of her head. “ He doesn't talk.”

Jared looked over at the boy drying dishes on the other side of Linda, surprised. “What, never?”

“Nope,” Linda said plainly. “Never. He's not all there. Can't stand to be touched either, like, not at all. So keep your hands to yourself,” she added with a warning glare that transformed her rather plain face into something fierce.

Jared flushed and almost dropped the plate he was holding. “I'm not, I mean I wouldn't...”

Linda studied him for a minute more before nodding, apparently satisfied. “Good. Just because he's a retard, doesn't mean he deserves to be taken advantage of.”

Jared winced on Robby's behalf at the derogatory term used to describe him, but a quick glance showed no reaction from the boy at all. In fact he didn't seem to register their presence at all, keeping his attention wholly fixated on the task at hand. Jared wants to tell her not to use that word to describe Robby, to describe anybody, but there it would be stupid to risk alienating what might be his only ally and potential source of information right off the bat. 

He's never been accused of being stupid.

Jared has about a hundred questions he'd like to ask but a glance to his left tells him this isn't really a good time to do it. Hopefully there will be time at some point during the day when they can talk, maybe even with a little privacy.

His legs are aching from standing in one position by the time they finally finish the veritable mountain of dirty breakfast dishes. Someone notices right away that they are done, proving that they were indeed being watched as he'd suspected, and he soon finds himself at a small table set off in an alcove, peeling potatoes along with Linda. Robby is put to work snapping a huge pot of fresh green beans.

The chair feels like heaven after being on his feet for the long washing up session and Jared goes to work with a will. Linda, however, smacks his hand after only a few minutes of work. “Slow down, idiot, you're making me look bad.”

Jared does as he's told, but he's still peeling two potatoes for every one Linda does. He puts all their finished vegetables in one combined pile so it won't be quite so obvious and grabs the next potato with a smile, feeling quite pleased with his cleverness.

Linda doesn’t comment on his actions but she is watching him with a small smile on her face which gives Jared the courage to ask, “So, how long have you been here?”

The smile slips a little but Linda answers calmly. “About two months. More or less.”

“Here in the kitchens?” A potato near the top of the pile threatens to topple off the table and Jared catches it at the last second, only inches from landing in Linda's lap. She ignores this and nods in response to his question. 

“For now.”

Jared shoots her a look but her face reveals nothing. “What does that mean?”

Linda shrugs. “Life is funny, isn't it? One minute you're peeling potatoes, the next you're fertilizing them.”

It was such a bizarrely macabre thing to say that Jared was speechless for a long minute. “What?” He realizes his voice is louder than it should be and lowers it to an incredulous whisper. “No, really, what do you mean by that?”

Linda's smile is painted on, a grim rictus that hurts to see. “When I got here there were three already on kitchen duty; Michael, Jennifer, and Jose. I figured out it was where the new people were sent. Well, maybe not all of them, I'm not real sure about that. Anyway, Master Ackles was out of town. He came back after a few days and poof! Jose was gone. No idea where. Then Jennifer was called to be the Master's body slave for oh, let's see, maybe one whole month. I'd see her in the halls every so often. Then one day, she was just... gone. Then Michael disappeared overnight, just like Jose had.”

Jared stared at her, speechless, a soft whooshing sound filling his ears as he fought down panic. He realized after a long minute he was gaping like a slack jawed bumpkin and hurriedly closed his mouth, striving for a calm he didn't feel.

Linda calmly put down her potato and picked up another. “You were bought at a county sale, right?” She didn't wait for Jared's answer before continuing. “All of us were. All of us at table G are messed up in some way. Throw aways. This,” she gestured with the hand holding the paring knife at the pile of potatoes, “is to keep us busy and out of the way until he decides he wants one of us.” Linda laughed, a chilling sound that sent shivers up and down Jared's spine. “I'd heard the rumors about him for years and like an idiot, thought it couldn't possibly be true. It sounded too much like a boogeyman tale parents tell their kids to con them into being good. I was so, so stupid.”

Looking at Linda's face suddenly became too much to bear and so Jared glanced over at Robby. Too late it occurred to him that all this probably shouldn't have been said in front of the younger boy, though there really wasn't much he could have done to stop Linda. Robby didn't seem in the least bit perturbed, however, by the horrifying revelations spilling out into the room and was currently absorbed in lining the beans he was supposed to be snapping in a straight line across the table.

Jared might object to her terminology, but there was no denying Robby was clearly unsuited for almost any role a slave might be called on to fill. Even at menial tasks, he would require almost constant supervision. Ironically, he was more than pretty enough to be a body slave, much prettier than Jared himself, but he couldn't see any owner putting up with the other boy's stubborn eccentricities for very long. And as for himself, well, his... problem was obvious. He knew he could still work, and work well, but not many would believe it. As for Linda...

“What's wrong with you?” he blurted out, mouth running ahead of his good sense. “I mean, I'm sorry...”

“Don't be,” Linda interrupted coolly as she reached for another potato. She didn't seem angry, but she didn't answer his question either. There was nothing physically wrong that Jared could see, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He tried not to dwell on it but with the alternative being thinking on his new owner's proclivities, he eventually gave up and spent the time until their task was finished mentally listing various problems Linda could possibly have. 

By the time lunch was served to the others and the dishes cleared away Jared was starving, more than ready to stop working and eat. A few slaves were still in the dining hall, but just as with the workers in the kitchen, no one seemed at all interested in talking with him. Or even meeting his eyes.

“You get used to it,” Linda said with a studied lack of concern as they took their seats. At Jared's questioning look she continued, “Being a pariah. I've tried to make friends. No one cares. I wouldn't waste my time.”

Jared frowned because that couldn't possibly be true. He'd convinced himself that people here were just standoffish until they got to know you, although how anyone could get to know if they were busy pretending you didn't exist he couldn't say. He looked around the room until he saw someone looking in their direction. It was a man, old enough to be his father, with a pleasant, kind face. Perfect.

He smiled across the room, deliberately making eye contact with the other man, hoping to get a smile or a nod in return. The man might even stop by their table and say hello, and Jared would make another friend and ally which would be all to the good.

None of that happened. Instead the man's face filled with consternation and he looked away; at the floor, the ceiling, his dining companions, everywhere but in Jared's direction. 

That was dispiriting, to say the least.

Still, he was sure Linda was exaggerating. He tried again when they went back to the kitchens, nodding to everyone within range and tossing out a cheery hello to the closest workers. Only one responded with a small smile, and she was gone before Jared could say anything further. Everyone else seemed uncomfortable around him, around them, actually, giving Linda's statement further credibility.

The question was, why? Why did eyes slide away from his? Why did everyone avoid interacting with the small group unless it was absolutely necessary?

He didn't know. The only theory he could come up with was utterly depressing – that they knew Jared, Linda and Robby were damned and it was easier to not get involved. Keeping your distance was a good way to protect yourself, to keep your heart and mind whole. Jared knew this. He knew it, but he'd always been terrible at it.

Everything he was learning was disheartening, to say the least. It all pointed to the dark rumors being true, to the likely possibility that Jared's future was as dark and bleak as the winter they'd just emerged from not so long ago. 

And yet there was nothing he could do about it, about anything really, except do as he was told and hope it would be enough. Hope that this was all some bad dream and he'd wake up tomorrow and find this was all just a big, cosmic joke. That their owner wasn't a sadistic degenerate who bought and used slaves for his own sick pleasures. That everything was going to be okay.

Hope, it seemed, died a hard death.

*

Six days after first coming to Five Oaks, as he'd learned his owner's estate was named, Mr. Alan showed up at their table during lunch and told Jared to come with him.

Jared's fear started skittering around inside him, screaming this is it, sure that he was finally being taken to meet his mysterious new owner. So far as he knew, Master Ackles hadn't even been in residence since Jared had been bought, but then, he wasn't exactly privy to his owner's comings and goings.

Mr. Alan soon put paid to that line of thinking however. As he escorted Jared to a waiting car out front, he informed him in the same terse manner Jared remembered from before that he was being taken to “get checked out”.

Jared very carefully didn't look at Mr. Alan in any way that could be misinterpreted, but he presumably heard a question in the silence anyway.

“By a doctor, kid. Make sure you're okay.”

And that made sense. If he was to be a body slave, even if it were just for one night, his owner would probably like some assurance that Jared was disease free.

The doctor was unexpectedly gentle, an older man with cold hands and a warm smile. 

“And how did this happen, young man?” he asked, carefully probing Jared's leg with a thoughtful frown.

Jared didn't pull away, he'd been trained out of that early, but some of the pain he felt must have shown anyway because the doctor stopped with a quick apology. 

“It was an accident. A car crash, my leg was caught under the seat.”

The doctor hummed to himself as he examined it further, gently massaging the knot of muscles that made up Jared's calf. “Does that hurt? What about this? Where were you treated?”

In truth, Jared didn't remember the name of the hospital or his doctors, lost as he'd been in a haze of grief and pain at the time. The doctor nodded when he confessed as such. “Well, wherever it was, they did a piss poor job of it. No reason this had to be nearly as bad as it is. No money for treatment, am I right?”

Jared's eyes dipped to the floor in silent acknowledgment of the words.

“Not your fault, now was it? Still, if your owner is willing, some physical therapy would do you a world of good. There's no cure, understand, but you'd get around much easier and the pain should lessen considerably.”

This, Jared was sure, was nothing more than a pretty pipe dream, as the doctor clearly didn't know who his owner was or of his reputation. Still he thanked the nice man for his time and was sent on his way to the in house lab, there to have various samples drawn, from blood to urine.

He told Linda about it that night at dinner and she nodded. “I got checked out too, couple of days after I got here.” Her eyes slide to Robby, who is busy arranging a stack of crackers into a neat row along the edge of his tray. “Him too, I think – he was gone one morning and I thought that was it for him but then he came back.”

Jared stirred his bowl of vegetable soup in careful circles. “He has a name, you know. Just because he doesn't talk doesn't mean he can't hear you.”

Linda rolled her eyes but flushed a little with shame. “Whatever.”

*

Jared was tackling a scorched pot when it happened. The room had gone deathly quiet, all sound and motion ceased by everyone except Robby, who was single mindedly watching a plate he'd set to spinning on the counter top. Jared looked up from the sink to find Linda staring at him, eyes burning bright in a dead white face, before glancing over at the doorway.

Mr. Alan stood there, his face set in an impassive mask, and somehow Jared just knew.

He'd been summoned. He was meeting his owner at long last.

*

It seemed as if he'd been waiting for this day for months, not the eight days since he'd been sold. Jared tried and mostly succeeded in keeping his mind carefully blank, because to let his mind wander was to invite panic in to set up shop. And panic was a very dangerous thing.

The corridors seemed to stretch out further than was physically possible – long tunnels that went impossibly far off into the distance. Mr. Alan didn't let him dawdle and his legs felt strangely heavy as he struggled to keep up with the longer limbed man leading the way. Most of the areas they went through were wholly foreign to Jared, who had been confined almost exclusively to the slave quarters. He was soon lost, with no idea how to get back to the slave quarters of the house.

If you come back, his traitorous mind whispered, spiking his fear up even further.

After what felt like hours they arrived at an unpretentious door set in a nondescript hallway. Mr. Alan said nothing as he knocked and then opened the door in response to a voice inside. At his escorts gesture, he walked inside, Mr. Alan's presence a heavy weight at his back. Jared shifted nervously from side to side before realizing what he was doing and forcing himself to remain still. He folded his hands neatly in front of him and waited.

He didn't have long to wait. A couple of minutes later a head, tousled and damp, peered around the corner of an open doorway, followed shortly by the rest of his new owner. Jared had a confused impression of lean, sinewy muscle and warm masculinity as he was rapidly circled, weighed, and assessed as thoroughly as he'd ever been. 

“He'll do.” Master Ackles announced impassively, before turning on his heel and leaving Jared standing in a cloud of moist, warm air. From the other room, a voice called out, “Show him around, Alan. You know what to do.”

Mr. Alan took Jared by the arm and lightly guided him through what turned out to be essentially a self contained apartment within the house proper. There was a dining area, barely large enough for three or four people, just off a small kitchen, a comfortable looking sitting area and a good sized bedroom, complete with a king sized, canopied bed. 

The decor was something of a surprise; dark wooden furniture, soothing blues and greens in the carpets and curtains - the overall effect was warm and cozy and in stark contrast to the public areas of the house. This was clearly the Master's private retreat.

The last stop on the short tour was a small room set just off the bedroom. It was clearly a sleeping area as well, albeit much smaller and plainer. A twin sized bed was pushed against the wall, while a small dresser was the only other piece of furniture in the room.

“This is where you'll sleep when you're not needed,” Mr. Alan said matter of factly. “You're to wear the clothes in the wardrobe – let Carla know if you need anything more.”

At this point he took pity on Jared's obviously bewildered expression and added, “You do understand what's going on, don't you?”

At Jared's numb head shake he sighed and said, “You're to be Master Ackles new body slave.”

Some of Jared's sick terror must have shown through because Mr. Alan awkwardly patted his arm in what was most likely supposed to be a reassuring manner. “Don't panic, now. All you have to do is do as you're told and – this is real important – watch what you say.”

At Jared's look he added, “Not to the Master, well, to him of course, but I meant to everyone else. He's real particular about his privacy. Understand?”

Jared nodded mutely before realizing he should respond verbally. “Yes, Sir. I will not, would not, ever talk about my owner's private business.”

With one last clumsy pat, Mr. Alan escorted him back towards the exit. “Good boy. I thought you were a smart one. You go back with your friends, now, and Carla will bring you back after dinner.”

It took Jared over half an hour to make it back to the kitchens, even after asking for directions from a passing slave. Linda looked shocked when Jared walked back through the door but waited until they were alone in their little alcove before asking him any questions.

“Are you okay?” she whispered with a quick look around to see who was watching. “I mean, I didn't think I see you again and here you are. You look okay, are you okay?”

Jared shut off the animated flow of words with a hiss under his breath. “I'm fine. Nothing happened.” Linda had enough time to look relieved before he added, “I'm to go back to him tonight, though,” at which she looked panicked all over again.

“Tell me everything,” she begged.

Jared did, not that there was much to tell, as he picked his way through his dinner later that evening. Linda's appetite was no better than his and for the first time since he'd arrived here Jared ended up leaving a substantial portion of his dinner uneaten. He was just about to put his tray away when Carla showed up, appearing in that unnervingly sudden way she had.

The long, winding trip was just as disconcerting this time around, although Jared did make a considerable effort at memorizing the way, just in case. His stomach clenched as Carla rapped once on the door before opening it, but as he peered around her shoulder he could see that there was no one inside and relaxed, just a bit. Carla gestured impatiently for him to go inside, which he did. When he turned back around to ask her what he should do now, Carla was gone. He was alone, apparently, inside his owner's rooms. Who would be coming back at some point. Coming back and... and...and then he didn't know what would happen. 

He really wished he knew. That someone would simply tell him what was going to happen to him, not just tonight but in the foreseeable future. Although maybe it was better not to know. At least this way, he could keep a spark of hope alive.

Jared looked around in vain for something to do, some task that he could perform and not only keep his mind and hands busy but maybe prove his usefulness. There was nothing to be found, however. The room was as neat as though a team of house slaves had tidied up only moments before. Which, as far as Jared knew, was true.

In the end he settled for kneeling in a spot where he'd be instantly visible from the front door but out of the way should his owner choose to ignore his presence.

Jared had plenty of experience in being forgotten. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of the alternatives life handed you sometimes.

Minutes turned to hours and Jared sank slowly into a light trance like state, brought about by his struggle to keep his mind calm and still. He tried and failed at not thinking about the large bed only yards from where he sat, or what could happen to him in it. Or anywhere else in the house, he supposed. Master Jensen could, if he so chose, bend him over the formal dining room table downstairs in full view of the staff and anyone else who cared to watch and there would be nothing he could do about it. 

For all he knew that was exactly what was going to happen. For all he knew, that was what his owner liked, the degradation and humiliation adding an extra spice to his sex that he needed. 

At least he would live through that.

Maybe Master Ackles wouldn't damage him too badly. Maybe he just wanted sex, normal everyday sex that would probably hurt some but wouldn't kill him. Maybe he just got bored easily, liked a quick turnover in his bed partners and so got rid of his body slaves soon after getting them. It didn't explain where they went to, of course, but it gave him another tiny spark of hope.

The snick of the door opening sent his mind zooming back into full awareness instantaneously and he struggled to stand, the numbness in his legs making him clumsier than usual. To his great relief, he managed to get up without falling and making a total fool of himself.

By the time he'd gotten fully upright his owner was gone again, the only sign of his presence the sound of a tap running in the adjacent bathroom.

Jared took an uncertain step towards the open door before stopping himself. What should he do? It was customary for a body slave to assist in his owner's ablutions but no one had given him any sort of instructions in the matter one way or the other. Master Colin had never wanted that from him, had always derided freemen who were “too spoiled and lazy to dry their own damn selves off.” In the end Jared decided the odds were better than not that his owner would want him to serve in that way and so he was ready, waiting with a towel held outstretched when Master Jensen turned off the water at the sink.

It seemed he had chosen wrongly – Master Jensen took the towel from his hands but then waved him from the room with a scowl. 

Jared didn't need to be told twice.

Burning with shame, Jared waited just outside the bathroom door. Master Jensen eventually emerged wearing nothing but a toweling robe. His face was a just scrubbed pink and Jared tried very hard to remember what he'd been told about the devil having a pleasing form, the better to fool an unsuspecting soul.

He stopped and studied Jared as he stood there, much as he'd done earlier that day. Jared was careful not to meet his eyes, to keep his head bowed respectfully, but he felt the gaze burning into him nonetheless.

This was it, he thought. 

Sex was simple. Hopefully he could be what his owner needed, give him what he wanted, and he'd live another day. He'd show him that he wasn't a worthless throwaway slave, that he was worth keeping even when he'd tired of having Jared in his bed.

In the end, it was all rather anticlimactic. 

An oddly gentle hand lifted his chin, raising his gaze to meet that of his owners. Jared's breath caught in his throat.

“Go to bed, Jared. It's late and I'm tired,” Master Ackles said softly, his breath brushing Jared's cheek as he spoke. With that, he was gone, Jared released so suddenly that he staggered a bit. 

Feeling oddly floaty and on edge at the same time, Jared did as he was told. He huddled under the thin blanket as though it were a form of protection against what might happen in the night as he slept, sleep that was a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's clear Linda's words are her own and not mine.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared was awake long before his owner the next day, having woken himself up after only a few hours sleep mostly thanks to his fear that he'd accidentally oversleep. At the first signs of stirring in the next room, Jared got up and hurriedly dressed before pulling back the thin curtain that separated the two rooms from each other. He waited in the doorway, ready in case he should be needed, but out of the way if not.

Master Jensen was still in the process of sleepily emerging from his bed covers, reminding Jared of nothing so much as a butterfly leisurely breaking free from it's silken cocoon. He wondered what it would be like to live like that – your time your own, your schedule dictated by no one but yourself before he stopped those thoughts dead in their tracks. It was wholly nonproductive to dwell on things he'd never have again.

He'd be willing to bet not even the most pampered and spoiled of body slaves – and there were a few of those out there – could sleep in just because they felt like it. And that sort of body slave was something he'd never be, at any rate.

Master Jensen stood and stretched, shuffling towards the bathroom with eyes still partially closed, apparently navigating primarily by sense memory.. He came back out only a few moments later and blinked as he registered Jared's presence in the room. 

It very much looked like he'd entirely forgotten Jared was even there.

“Ah, Jared, right? Go, um, have a seat in the other room.”

At last, clear instructions to follow.

When he joined Jared in the sitting room, Master Jensen was neatly dressed in casual but well tailored clothes, the jewel tones of his shirt matching the green of his eyes perfectly. He settled himself into a worn, overstuffed armchair and fixed Jared with a look. 

“So. We need to go over a few things. As my body slave you have two main rules to follow. First, you will never, ever, talk about me, in any way but the most general to any one else. Not to a slave, not to a freeman, not to your best friend, not to the fucking president. And I do mean in any way. You aren't to gossip about what drinks I like. Keep your mouth closed about what books I've read. If I buy a new shirt consider it a state secret. Are you getting my drift, here, Jared?”

Jared nodded as he answered, “Yes, Master. I will remember.”

Master Jensen's eyes narrowed as he judged Jared's sincerity. “My privacy is extremely important to me. If I should hear any rumors floating around about me, I'll know exactly who to blame. And if that should happen, I'll be very unhappy.”

Jared swallowed thickly and held very still as his owner leaned forward and dropped his voice into a low rumble. “Very unhappy,” he repeated.

Jared opened his mouth to try and reassure his owner of his discretion once again, but to his horror, found his vocal cords completely inoperable. Master Jensen seemed satisfied, however, and leaned back relaxing into his chair. 

“The other rule will be a little more complicated. My body slaves are quite often the target of the stupider members of our set – those who think they can offend me and get away with it for some reason – and you'll need to be on your guard when I travel. When we travel. To be clear, there's a good chance some idiot will try and have sex with you.”

Jared blinked and wondered what sort of response he should or could give here. He was saved from having to answer by Master Jensen continuing on without him.

“I don't share, you see. Ever. I find it... distasteful. Which some take as a challenge. You'll need to try and keep out of such situations to start with, when possible. Keep close by me unless I give you direct orders otherwise. Avoid being alone with anyone. If you do find yourself in a situation, you'll have to extricate yourself without offending anyone. Again, if possible. If not, you have my full permission to scream bloody murder. Are we clear? Do you have any questions?”

What happened to all those other slaves? Jared thought, along with, Are you really the monster they say you are? but he came nowhere close to asking them out loud as he wasn't suicidal. Instead he bowed his head and did his best to reassure his owner that he understood everything he'd been told.

“Good. For now, stay in these rooms unless I tell you otherwise.”

With that, he left the room, going back into his bedroom to emerge again soon after, fully dressed. Jared was once again left alone in his rooms.

He spent the day in idleness and hunger, well, until lunchtime that was when someone apparently remembered that he was here and brought him a tray from the kitchen. The girl who delivered it was the same one who had grinned shyly at him the other day. Jared gave her his most charming smile when he recognized who it was. 

“Hey!” he said cheerfully, taking the heavy tray from her hands. “It's good to see a friendly … face,” he finished, finding himself talking to a closed door. She'd left without saying a word. That was disappointing, to say the least.  
It seemed he was even more of a pariah now than before.

As he ate his soup and sandwich he wondered who was washing dishes with Linda and Robby, or if they were left to cope with it on their own. Most likely the latter, he thought, and felt a little bit guilty that he was sitting here doing nothing while they had to do their jobs and his besides. 

Then again, it was kind of nice to be able to relax for a while.

Of course, he might be envying them their stacks of dirty dishes before thtyg78e day was over. His owner had been tired last night when he got in, that much had been obvious. So it was understandable that he hadn't wanted Jared for sex, brutal or otherwise. But surely tonight would be different. James' words from that day in the auction slave pens ran through his head like a sick refrain. 

“He buys little idiots like you so he has an outlet for his really twisted desires. All the sick things he can't do to the slaves he actually wants to live out the week.”

A different kitchen worker, someone he didn't recognize this time, came back for his tray. Time had drug that morning but by the afternoon it had slowed to a glacier crawl, so much so that he actually thought about borrowing one of his owner's books and sneaking it into the bathroom to read it. Surely he'd have time to hide it when he heard Master Ackles come it, and could replace it on the shelf at some point without being noticed? He'd gone so far as to begin perusing the bookshelves when his owner walked into the room, frightening Jared into dropping to his knees right where he stood.

He frowned down at Jared and said roughly, “I don't stand on ceremony. Not here. Not unless there's company to impress.”

Jared took that to mean he shouldn't kneel and got up awkwardly. By the time he was done his owner had ensconced himself at the desk in front of the picture window that dominated the room. He was arranging the books he'd come in with; a very large binder, a smaller three ring binder and a couple of smaller books. . 

“I've got some work to do, so keep yourself occupied until I'm done,” Master Ackles said without looking in his direction. “Can you read?” At Jared's assent he continued, “Then help yourself to the bookcase. Just don't damage anything. A few of those are valuable.”

And worth far more than you are, Jared heard the unspoken finish to his sentence. He assured him with all sincerity that he would be very careful with any and all books he borrowed.

It didn't take Jared long to pick out a book to read. Treasure Island, the story of a courageous young slave boy named Jim, was a sweetly remembered childhood favorite. Likewise Tom Sawyer and The Jungle Book. In the end, however, he settled on a well worn copy of Heidi, both because he could use a dose of optimism right about now and because the book itself didn't look like it was worth much, if anything.

He perched on the couch, tense at first but gradually relaxing as he realized his owner was wholly absorbed in whatever it was he was doing and not really paying him any attention at all. It was difficult to really enjoy the book, however, as much as he'd missed reading. There had been one old television in the slave quarters at the Harrisons' but as there were eight others sharing it, all with more seniority than him, he rarely got to see anything that interested him. So he'd come to rely on reading as his entertainment in the evenings, sometimes even back when Colin had still lived at home and Jared was sharing his room.

In fact, this was almost exactly like many evenings he'd spent with Colin.

Jared would curl up with a book, keeping quiet so as not to disturb Colin while he halfheartedly worked on his homework. He'd be sitting at his desk in his room, just like Master Ackles was now. It was tempting to imagine things were the same as they were back then, though he knew it was far from the case. Tempting but dangerous, because he and Colin couldn't be any more different in almost every way that counted.

A discrete knock at the door some time later made Jared jump, just a little, but Master Ackles didn't even look up. “Get that, would you?” he asked absently as he wrote something in the larger of the two binders.

Jared answered with a quick affirmative and opened the door to find a kitchen worker, this time with a cart that bore two trays of food. Jared thanked her and helped set up the meal on the small table, closing the door behind her when she left. He stood at the table and waited when he was done.

“What is it tonight?” Master Ackles asked, after a minute.

Jared peeked under the lid covering the nearest plate. “It looks like pork chops, Sir. With brown rice and a spinach salad.”

Master Ackles hummed lowly in reply. It didn't sound like a very pleased hum to Jared's ears. He stood and stretched a little before making his way to the table, then lifted the cover off his plate and frowned. 

“Baked,” he said flatly. “Just as I thought. What do I have to do to get a fried pork chop around here?”

Jared had a vision of some poor cook being beaten for forgetting how his or her owner preferred his pork chops and held himself very still, waiting to see what would happen.

Which was... nothing. Well, nothing more than another grumble or two, before Master Ackles finally settled in to eat his dinner. Jared wasn't sure what he should be doing, so he settled on hovering uncertainly near the small fridge. 

Master Ackles, however, waved him into a chair. “Eat. Or do you want Theresa to have to make another trip up here just to get your plate?”

Jared hurriedly did as he was told. “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

The food was delicious, in his opinion. Better overall than what he'd normally be eating downstairs but not by a huge margin. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Jared too nervous to eat with his normal enthusiasm, before Master Ackles spoke. 

“I''m going to a party a week from this Friday. A house party, over the weekend. You'll be coming with me. You need to be sure and dress the part.” 

Jared's heart sank, even though he'd anticipated this. He'd looked at the clothes in the dresser, of course. They were of two distinct types; the regular household uniform, demure and plain, and a collection of brightly colored clothes so obviously designed for seduction he'd be embarrassed to wear them alone in his room. Just the thought of wearing them in front of someone else who'd stare at him, who'd see him laid bare and exposed...

“Jared,” Master Ackles spoke sharply, and Jared knew he'd said his name more than once. “Is there a problem?”

Jared flushed and studied his plate. “No, Sir.”

His owner tapped his plate with his fork, producing a loud ping that made Jared jump. “You're lying.”

Jared ducked his head further because it was nothing less than the truth.

“You don't like the clothes - the other clothes.” It was a statement, not a question, but Jared felt like he should answer anyway. But Master Ackles continued without waiting for him to speak. “It's just a costume. A disguise, if you want to look at it that way. So you fit in.”

And that was... understandable, actually. Even though he'd rather chew tinfoil than wear those horrible things.

“I'm not sure I'm going to fit in, no matter what I wear,” Jared said truthfully, the words slipping out before he could hold them in. 

His owner paused, considering. “I was told you were a body slave for your previous owner. Was I misinformed?”

Jared hesitated. That was a complicated question to have to answer, to say the least.

“Jared?” he prompted.

“Not formally, no.”

“Ah. But informally?” Master Ackles asked carefully.

“My owners of record were Masters and Missus Harrison. But I was bought for their son, Colin. Master Colin,” he corrected himself. 

“He was a minor, I take it?” 

“Yes, Sir. He was a couple of years older than me.”

“So you would have been listed in the records as a 'companion'.”

“I was, so far as I knew.”

“And I'm guessing he didn't take you out much, to parties and so forth.”

Jared shook his head no. Colin had hated the large majority of his social group, calling them shallow inbred morons. And that was on a good day. He'd much preferred his small circle of hand picked friends and a night drinking with them in his parents rec room over a large formal party. “He liked staying home with friends. Not parties so much.”

“Well, then. This will be a new experience for you, won't it. Do you remember the two rules I taught you?”

Jared nodded and dutifully recited them as best as he could remember. 

“Good enough. Do you remember how to get to the kitchen from here?” 

Jared was only about eighty percent sure he did but he nodded anyway. “Would you like me to return the trays?”

Master Jensen stood and went to the sink to wash his hands. “You may as well,” he said over the sound of running water. “And start picking them up beforehand as well.” 

Jared was already busy gathering up the plates and dishes onto one tray, sliding the extra one underneath for easier carrying.   
Linda, Robby and another kitchen slave he didn't know by name were busy working at the sink, washing up the after dinner dishes. Linda looked more tired than he could remember ever seeing her, her face drawn and sad.

“Jared?” she said, disbelieving, as she spotted him. 

“Can't stay. I'm just dropping these off,” he said, awkwardly sliding the trays onto the nearest clear surface. “But, um, I'll be back to bring trays upstairs from now on. At mealtimes. So.”

“You'd better tell someone in charge, Jared. Not me.” With that she pointedly turned her back to him. 

“Okay,” he said, weakly, feeling kind of like he'd been slapped in the face. He didn't linger, not wanting to get in trouble, but sought out the nearest person that he knew had some authority and gave her the message. He thought he saw Robby watching him leave but then again, that was probably just wishful thinking. 

When he got back to the apartment Master Ackles was once again sitting at his desk working. Jared was careful to move quietly, closing the door without a sound and making his way to the couch to sit. He read a little more but as the night went on and presumably time for bed got closer Jared found it harder and harder to concentrate. Would his owner take him to bed tonight or not? There had been no lust in his eyes when he watched Jared. Nothing to indicate he actually wanted Jared at all. Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything. He'd seen lust come and go like a whirlwind, taking him completely by surprise. 

All he could do was wait and see.

Jared got up to go to the bathroom at one point and when he was done, decided to go into his little sleeping area and sort out the clothes he'd need to take with him for the weekend. Maybe they weren't as awful as he remembered. He hadn't really looked at them all, after all, only glanced at the top few before stuffing them back inside where he didn't have to look at the offending garments anymore. 

His memory was, if anything, kind. They were horrible. Jared was holding up a thin silk top in a bright fuchsia to the overhead light in order to judge it's sheerness when he felt a touch on his shoulder. With a total lack of self control he yelped and jumped, falling face first onto the bed in a tangle of fabric in the process. He turned over immediately and started to get to his feet, only to be stopped by a pair of steady green eyes boring into him. 

“You're very jumpy,” he said evenly.

Jared wasn't sure what to say, exactly, so he went with the tried and true. When in doubt, apologize.

“Sorry?” he said, secretly proud of how steady his voice was. He hoped his owner didn't pick up on how extremely vulnerable he felt right at that moment.

“Are you afraid of me, Jared?” Master Ackles asked calmly, standing over him with arms crossed. Jared didn't answer, couldn't answer because, yes, of course he was, any sane person would be, so why... “Because I understand if you are. And sometimes fear is a good thing. It keeps us from doing stupid things.”

He took the one short step necessary to bring him to Jared's side, bending over so their eyes were only a foot apart. “And I don't think you want to be doing anything stupid. Do you, Jared?” 

Jared felt pinned to the mattress by that gaze and the weight of his owner's body over him, as helpless as a butterfly on a dissection board. “Nnnnno. Sir,” he said, hating the way his voice wavered. “No, Sir,” he said again, stronger this time around. All the while his hind brain was shrieking a panicked, this is it, as they stayed that way for a long, endless minute. He waited, braced for the worst.

Which didn't happen. Instead, his owner simply stood up and stepped back to the doorway. “Good. Then you'll be fine, Jared.” He started to leave but paused, hand on the curtain that was Jared's door. “It's okay to relax a little. Here, anyway. Be on your guard away from home but here, it's not necessary.”

When he was physically able to stand once more Jared did so, carefully folding and putting away the stack of clothing, hands trembling just a bit as he worked. When he was finished he dared a quick peek out into the bedroom and saw Master Jensen there, tucked away in bed, apparently fast asleep. 

It seemed he was to be spared for another night. 

He lay in bed that night, trying and failing to make sense of the mixed messages Master Ackles was giving him. He, along with everyone else in this crazy place, had Jared so confused he didn't know which way was up anymore. Or who, if anyone, he could trust. 

Sleep was a long time coming.

*

Friday approached with the speed of a bullet train on meth. 

Jared wasn't entirely sure what was going on with Linda, if she was afraid for him and manifesting that through hostility or if it was something else entirely, but she was still giving him the cold shoulder whenever he went to the kitchens for meals. Time wasn't moving quite so slowly now that he had a job to do, albeit a small one, as well as books to read. Master Ackles was in and out of the rooms often, although he rarely stayed long. When he did linger, he was generally working at his desk. There was little conversation and what there was, was mostly impersonal. 

There were no more close encounters.

Jared began to slowly relax around his new owner as he continued to treat him like nothing more than an ordinary house slave. One with almost no real duties. Who was available for sex but wasn't used in that way. 

None of this made any sense.

Maybe he didn't find him attractive? That was certainly possible as most people seemed to be bothered by his mangled leg, but if that were true, why had he been chosen as the Master's body slave in the first place?

Maybe he simply wasn't interested in sex at all? Or just couldn't perform physically. Maybe Jared was a cover, a beard so no one would suspect his secret. If that were true, it might explain the high turnover rate for body slaves here. After all, the longer one was in close quarters with someone the more likely he or she would discover the truth. His owner might simply be selling them to distant buyers in order to get them far away. The rumors had likely gotten started when someone had noticed this happening over and over again.

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He'd seen no evidence that his owner had any interest in sex. No one had been brought back to his quarters to use. He was never gone overnight. 

And then there was the way he was so very insistent on his privacy. 

None of it added up to conclusive proof, but they were clues that hinted he may be right. 

For Jared, if it were true, this could be the ideal situation. It was possible he could land himself a cushy place in the household, if could convince his owner he could be trusted with his secret. So far things had been really good here, if you looked at it objectively. No one had beaten him or molested him in any way. The food was plentiful and tasty. The bed was comfortable and his alone. He even had a space of his own with the illusion of privacy.

It didn't get much better than this.

Although it was a little lonely, compared to the friends he'd had at the Harrisons', he was sure he could win at least a few people over given time. And if need be, he could make it without them.

All he needed to do now was to find out if what he suspected was true. And win over his owner, or at the least convince him of his trustworthiness.

 

*

 

They left just after lunch.

Jared carried his own small bag and one of Master Ackles larger ones, while Mr. Alan helped with the rest of the luggage. He felt incredibly exposed in his outfit, even though he was wearing the most demure clothing he could find that fit, a short teal colored tunic with matching lower garment slit from waist to ankle. Even his undergarment was mortifying, for all that no one could see it. 

Carla had stopped by the day before to help him get packed and ready to go. She'd held up the scrap of silk and said, “And this is what you wear underneath.”

At Jared's wide eyed look she'd sighed and added, “It's traditional. Like the rest of it, so learn to make the best of it.”

It had looked terribly old fashioned to Jared's eyes, though once he got it on he thought he saw the reasoning behind the underwear. A simple piece of cloth, it was pulled up between the legs and then tied on either hip to secure it in place. He saw right away how it could provide a groping hand access without removing the entire thing. 

As their small entourage made their way through the halls, Jared kept his eyes lowered and his walk as brisk as he was able. It felt like every eye in the house was on him, even though logically he knew everyone here had almost certainly seen more revealing clothing than what he was currently wearing. The relative privacy of the car couldn't come fast enough.

The hem of his tunic rode up as he slid across the seat and he hurriedly pulled it back down, with a glance to see if he was being watched.

He was.

Master Ackles, sitting directly next to him on the front seat, was looking at him without expression. Jared was especially self conscious about his leg, more exposed now than it had been in a public setting since the accident. The mass of scar tissue and twisted muscle was undeniably ugly and Jared couldn't help but wonder once again why he'd been chosen to serve as his owner's body slave. Especially in public, where everyone could see.

He'd gathered that almost everyone else at the house party would also have a body slave in attendance. He couldn't see how he'd possibly fit in with them, no matter what anyone else said. Jared knew what proper body slaves were like. Sleek and polished and graceful – pretty much the antithesis of himself. He had no doubt they'd look down their pretty little noses at him.

At best, this weekend was going to be uncomfortable. But if his theory was correct, this – this showing him off in public was what he'd been bought for. He'd do his best to put on a good performance.

 

*

The room they were given was as opulent as the public rooms at Master Ackles home were, with delicate and expensive looking bric-a-brac on every surface. Jared was suddenly, paralyzingly sure he would end up breaking one before the weekend was over. He resolved to move with extra caution and hoped that would be enough.

Jared ducked into the bathroom to check his appearance in the mirror and make sure he was as presentable as possible. He took longer than was strictly necessary – much longer, actually, as his nerves got the better of him for a bit. When he finally came out he saw that Master Ackles had changed clothes and was standing at the window looking out. Dressed in a slightly old fashioned dark jacket with a snow white shirt, he made Jared feel like an utterly ridiculous strutting peacock in comparison. 

Master Ackles announced it was time to go when Jared finally emerged and began leaving the room, pausing only when he noticed Jared wasn't following him.  
,  
“Jared,” Master Ackles barked. “You'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Just follow my lead and you'll be okay.”

Jared nodded as he answered. “I will. Sir.” His traitorous limbs finally began working again and he started to make his way down the hall.

“And remember, stick close to me.” 

He really didn't need to be told that. Better the devil you know, as his grandma used to say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter - blood, implied violence

When they first stepped into the ballroom, Jared was sure they had gone through the wrong door. The riot of color he saw surely belonged in a flower garden blooming in the first blush of spring. But no, those were people buzzing around the room in a frenzy of brightly colored clothing, more; he was sure, than he'd seen in one place and time in his lifetime. The large room seemed to be filled to bursting with party goers, most of whom were dressed in such a way that made his outfit seem understated by comparison. There were at least as many slaves as freemen in attendance, the former of which was made up of two distinct groups. Household slaves were easily identified by their identical butter yellow uniforms, while body slaves could be picked out of the crowd by their clothes. Low cut, sheer, skimpy – they were basically a slutty parody of the freemen they were there to serve.

His owner had been right, Jared realized. If he'd worn something more to his taste he'd have stood out like a sore thumb.

Jared walked just behind and to the left of Master Ackles as he circulated around the perimeter of the room. It was obvious he was well known if not well loved. There was a distinct coolness radiating off the people he interacted with. Not one person greeted him with anything approaching genuine warmth. Jared was relieved to find himself mostly ignored, although there were a few speculative looks thrown his way. 

Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. 

“Jensen,” he heard from behind and turned to see a couple approaching them, a tight smile on the face of the female half's. “So glad you could make it.”

His owner smiled and Jared was surprised to see that his smile, at least, looked real. “Abby. James. Like I'd miss one of your parties.”

“Yes, well,” the woman said flatly and Jared had the distinct impression that she, at least, would have been much happier if they hadn't come. 

“And this is what, number two?” Master Ackles said, with a glance at her stomach.

“Three, actually,” she said, rubbing her stomach absently. “Excuse me, I need to check in on the kitchen staff.” With that statement, she was gone.

His owner watched her leave with a now rueful grin. “If only she didn't hate me quite so much I might...”

“You can't really blame her, Jen,” James interrupted lightly, although his expression was anything but. Instead he had the distinct look of a man caught between a rock and hard place.

“I've asked you not to call me that,” he said gruffly, but there was no real heat behind the words.

James waved a hand dismissively. “I've known you since kindergarten, I think I've earned the right to call you what I like.” He eyed Jared with a gentle smile. “And who is this?”

Jared was a little taken aback by this, as it was the first time his existence had been overtly acknowledged by anyone at the party, save his owner, of course. 

“This is Jared,” Master Ackles said without elaboration. Not that there needed to be any, Jared thought. It was obvious what he was.

“Jared,” he said, and for a minute Jared thought the other man was actually going to shake his hand. The moment passed however, and he turned back to face Master Ackles. “We missed you at the Robinsons'. It was quite an evening.”

“I'm sure,” Master Ackles said, “But some of us don't have estate managers to do all of our work for us.”

“And whose fault is that? You've got to learn to give up a little control, Jensen. Relax. Have some fun.”

Master Ackles spread his hands in exasperation. “What do you think I'm doing?”

“Excellent question. Now, I'd better be going if I don't want to sleep in the guest room for the next week or three. Don't forget to get to the buffet before the wolf pack gets to it, or you'll find yourself going without.”

Jared eyed his owner hopefully at the mention of food. He'd been too nervous to eat much of anything earlier today and it was catching up with him now. He was disappointed to see him shake his head. 

“After while, maybe.”

James sighed and clapped him on the shoulder before leaving. A waiter passed by and Master Ackles stopped him long enough to steal two glasses of wine from his tray. He passed one to Jared and drank the other himself in one go. At his owner's nod, he sipped cautiously at his.

“Let's go outside,” he said unexpectedly, eying the crowd restlessly. “I need a breather.”

Jared could relate to that. Not only because the air felt heavy and thick in the over crowded room, but because a break from feeling like he was on display would be pretty awesome right about now. The veranda was wide, running the length of the entire house, it seemed, and mostly deserted. A group of three went back inside as they were coming out, leaving just one other couple outside with them, a good ways down from where they stood.

Master Ackles took a deep breath of the clean night air, the tension visibly melting from him. There were no exterior lights save a few fairy lights on a potted plant here and there and the air felt immeasurably lighter.

“You don't like it here, do you?” Jared asked, daringly. At his owner's startled look he continued, “If you don't like these types of parties, why do you go?”

“Why do you think that, Jared?”

“It's kind of obvious that you don't like these people. Most of them, anyway.” And they don't like you, he didn't say, but he was pretty sure Master Ackles heard the unspoken words anyway.

“Alan said you were sharp,” he said, not replying to Jared's question directly.

“I've been watching you, you know,” Jared continued, gaining confidence as he talked. “You talk gruff and try really hard to convince people of how mean you are, but it's not really you at all.”

Jared paused but Jensen said nothing so he continued on. “I know because I've watched how you treat people. I've never seen you lift a hand to anyone. Ever. Not even me. You know the names of the kitchen and cleaning staff, every single one. Do you have any idea how rare that is? I think you are a much better person than you want people to know.” Jared stepped closer to his side, so that they were now both standing flush against the railing. Here in the dark with the revelry of the party behind them, it almost felt like they were equals. Just two normal people out together, escaping an oppressive party for a few minutes, exchanging intimacies in the dark. He leaned in, so close that his mouth was only inches from Jensen's ear. “I know your other secret, too,” he whispered.

Jensen drew back from him as though he had shocked him. “What did you say?” He grabbed Jared's arm, shaking him roughly when he didn't get an immediate response. “Jared, what did you mean by that?”

Jared may have just made a huge mistake.

Just then he heard what sounded like a large group come out onto the veranda behind them, their too loud laughter sounding harsh and out of place in the peaceful night air. Jensen pulled him over to a nearby wall and shoved his back against it, the rough brick biting through his thin clothes. To say he was shocked when his owner then proceeded to plaster himself against him, effectively pinning him in place would be an understatement. But that was nothing to what he felt when his mouth covered his, or when insistent hands began running over his body.

His body, traitor that it was, responded almost immediately, even as brain was still attempting to play catch up, His skin tingled from the touching and stroking and - oh, but didn't that feel good. One thumb was circling his nipple while the other hand was sliding around and under his top to splay against his now heated skin. All the while his mouth was plundering Jared's. In the back of his mind he knew something was off about this sudden attack of lust, coming seemingly out of nowhere, but Jared's body was fully in control of things for the moment. Then Jensen pressed even more firmly against him, so that Jared could feel the entire muscled length of his body against him.

Jared had been wrong. So very, very wrong with his stupid theory. Because Jensen was most definitely interested in him sexually, and going by what was pressing against his hip right now, there were no performance issues, either.

Catcalls and wolf whistles brought him back to his senses just in time to realize his thin costume hid absolutely nothing. Luckily he was almost completely hidden from view by Jensen's body.

“Aaaackles! Can't you even keep it in your pants long enough to get to your room?”

“Seriously? Shut up, moron, this is hot!” called out another from the group.

There were more comments in the same vein, but Jared tuned them out as he attempted to get his mutinous body and emotions under control. He had no idea what had just happened. He was aware enough to realize Jensen had turned to face the unruly group, however, leaving him feeling oddly abandoned and bereft. 

“Don't you all have something better to do? Somewhere else, preferably?” Jensen said with a meaningful glare at the two troublemakers in front.

The group eventually dispersed back inside but not without much loud speculation on such topics as how hard Jared was going to get fucked in the not too distant future, along with more than one boast about how they could do a better job of it. Only one lingered behind his friends, a boy of maybe sixteen or seventeen, and Jared thought he saw pity in his eyes before he finally left as well.

“Was that the wolf pack?” Jared said to Jensen's back, after they had gone.

Jensen swung around with a scowl. “Yes. And I'd stay far away from them if you know what's good for you. Too much testosterone and not enough common sense.”

Jared had more than a little experience in dealing with young people of that type in packs and thought, if anything, Jensen was understating the danger they most likely represented. “I will,” is all he said in reply, however.

Jensen glanced around to see if they were alone before asking, “Now, where were we.”

For a minute Jared thought he was referring to kiss and braced himself before realizing that wasn't what Jensen meant. He ducked his head and studied his shoes for nonexistent spots. He really, really didn't want to have this conversation. He couldn't see any way this could end well for him.

“Jared. I need to know. What secret do you think you know about me?” Jensen insisted.

“I thought. I thought you weren't interested. In sex. That's all.”

Jensen, who had begun crowding him against the wall once more, drew back in surprise. “Really? That's it?”

Jared was pretty sure an apology was in order, so he mumbled a, “Sorry,” still looking down at the floor. “I mean, if it were true, it's not like there's anything wrong with that or anything but you didn't seem interested, like at all, not just in me but in anyone so I thought...”

“Jared. Stop. Please. I got it. I'm not mad at you, I just didn't see it coming.”

An entirely inappropriate joke popped into Jared's head at his owner's words but he somehow managed to squash it before it managed to make this situation even more awkward.

“Let's, ah, go back inside. Are you hungry? I think I could eat something.”

Before Jared could express his wholehearted agreement with that plan, not only because he was suddenly reminded that he was starving but because it would be a more than welcome distraction, Jensen grabbed his arm once more. He had just enough time to wonder if he was going to be inexplicably shoved against the wall once more when Jensen hissed, “Shit!” which kind of answered that question. 

“Those naughty boys weren't bothering you, were they Jensen?” he heard a high pitched voice say from the direction of the veranda doorway.

“It wouldn't hurt to teach yours at least a few manners, Joanna,” Jensen answered coolly, as he turned to fully face these new intruders.

Now that Jared had a clear line of sight, he could see there were two, both a good bit older than the group that had just left. Jensen didn't bother trying to hide his distaste for them in his voice.

“Ah well, boys will be boys you know. But you. Are you trying to hide from us again, Jensen?” the other one said, while the woman circled around behind Jared. 

“Yes, are you being... bad?” she said, a frankly lascivious look on her face. 

“I can't see where anything I do is any of your business,” he answered impassively.

“And what is this?” Hiram said, circling around Master Ackles to flank Jared on the other side of his... wife? Sister? It had to be sister, they looked so much alike they could almost be twins. Elegantly thin with almost identical platinum blond hair, they screamed wealth and breeding. That is, if you were to overlook the clear signs of dissipation.

“Another new pet, Jensen?” A hand ran down Jared's leg slipping inside the slit of his pants, causing him to flinch at the unexpected skin on skin contact. “And this one so very damaged. A newly discovered vice, Jensen? There's a term for that particular kink, Hiram, I just know there is. What is it?” Joanna said, rolling each word like a candy to be savored over her tongue. 

A strong hand yanked Jared away from the pair hemming him in, causing him to stumble slightly. “I've warned you about touching things that don't belong to you,”

Hiram and Joanna pouted in unison. The effect was eerie. 

“Such a spoilsport,” Hiram said, while Joanna added, “Didn't your Mother teach you to share? It's just a slave, after all.”

“My slave. My property.” Master Ackles dropped his voice to a rumble that sent shivers up and down Jared's spine. “Hands off.”

The unnerving pair traded glances before they finally flounced off in a huff. Jared wondered which of the wolf pack group was their offspring, and which; parent or child, was more dangerous. 

“Those are the people you were warning me about,” Jared said. 

Master Ackles looked at him in surprise, “Yes, well, two of them. There are others. Don't let down your guard, Jared. Not for a minute.”

It was good advice but too late. Jared had already let down his guard, he realized belatedly. Not with this group, God no, but with his owner, who seemed so much more approachable here than at home. Which was odd, when you thought about it, because he seemed to have even more walls than usual up here than at home.

“You protected me,” Jared said the words out loud without forethought as the concept finally sank in fully. “Thank you, Jensen.”

“You're welcome,” Jared realized his owner was watching with an odd expression on his face and said, “Is something wrong?”

“No. It's just that you called me Jensen. You've never done that before.”

Of course he hadn't. That would get you punished faster than most anything with the large majority of freemen – but then he realized Jensen was right. He had called him by his given name, not just now but most of the evening in his head. He wasn't sure when Master Ackles had become just Jensen and he wasn't at all sure that was a good thing. More importantly, he didn't know if Jensen thought that was a good thing.

“I'm sorry?” he said.

Jensen waved a hand dismissively. “I told you, I don't stand on ceremony. Although it's best to keep that to ourselves.”

“Only in private, then?”

“Exactly.”

 

*

The predictions about the state of the buffet turned out to be far too accurate. Jared stared forlornly at the decimated table and looked in vain for something edible left among the debris.

Jensen laughed at his woebegone expression. 

“Not to worry. I've got it covered.”

With that he led Jared back towards what turned out to be the kitchens and soon emerged bearing two full plates of finger foods. “Grab us a couple of drinks and we'll go find a spot in the dining room,” he said and Jared did as he was told.

The dining room had mostly older party goers filling it's seats, none of whom seemed in the least interested in talking with either of them. In fact, the two nearest the seats Jensen choose got up and left shortly after they sat down, even though their plates were still mostly full. Jensen didn't appear to notice but Jared was sure that he was fully aware of what had just happened.

He wondered when, exactly, his owner became such a pariah. And why, if that were so, he bothered to socialize at all, if you could even call this such a thing. The only people he seemed to care about, here, at least, were James and to a lesser extent his wife. 

And he still didn't know why he'd been bought.

Or why Jensen had reacted so strongly when he'd mentioned knowing about his secret. He'd gotten that all wrong but there clearly was a secret of some sort. It would probably be best if he didn't know what that was. Best for his future prospects and continued well being. Unfortunately he'd always been the curious sort, who couldn't stand leaving a puzzle unfinished even as a young child. 

They stayed at the party for an excruciating three more hours. He watched as Jensen danced with a handful of partners, smiled and laughed at things that weren't funny, and generally put on a show of having a grand time. He also noticed Jensen drank very little while appearing to drink much more than he actually had. As the evening progressed he began stumbling more and more and slurring his words. Much more disconcertingly, however was the way he touched Jared more and more as the night wore on. At first it was just a brush of a hand, or a light caress but before the night was over it had gotten much more pointedly sexual.

It felt like he was staking a claim more than anything. Letting everyone know who Jared belonged to, presumably so they'd leave him alone. It seemed to be working, because no one bothered him in the least throughout the evening. The wolf pack roamed the fringes of the party, generally making a nuisance of themselves but never approached them. A few party goers eyed Jared with a glint in his or her eye but it never went further than that. Finally there was a blessed end to the evening, as Jensen made his excuses with a drunken leer and roughly dragged Jared up the stairs to their room.

Jared was in a quandary as to whether he should admit he knew the drunk act was just that, an act, when Jensen closed the door behind them and abandoned his pretense.

“I know that you know I was pretending, Jared, so you can stop worrying about what to say or not say,” he said, shedding clothes as he headed for the bathroom. Jared was still untangling that sentence when through the open door he added, “Just know that sometimes someone can be too smart for their own good.”

 

*

The bed was decent sized but not nearly large enough for Jensen's peace of mind.

The kid sprawled like a starfish, hogging both the bed and the covers in his sleep. Jensen lay on his side and studied the other man's face as he slept. He wasn't really a kid, of course, being only four years or so younger than him. And far too attractive along with it, although he seemed to be entirely unaware of that, somehow. 

Jared had been so terrified when they'd first met and so very determined to hide it. He'd told him he was too smart for his own good, which was true. That applied just as well to himself. He'd asked Alan for his newest body slave to be someone smart and strong enough to cooperate with him - not put up a fuss like some did or be so overcome by fear. Jared was exactly what he'd asked for, which only went to show that sometimes you got more than you bargained for. He was too perceptive by half, picking up on much more than he'd like.

Not that he got things right all the time. Although you couldn't really blame him, as he wasn't working with a full set of facts.

And he never would be, if Jensen had anything to say about it. Not until it was too late to do anything rash with those facts.

Too much was riding on this for Jensen to get careless now. It would be so easy to trust Jared more than he should, tell him more than he should, to open up to him in a way he never did with any of the others. He couldn't let that happen.

Jensen carefully moved Jared's arm over, just enough to give him space to sleep, and bundled a spared blanket between them. Maybe now he could get some sleep.

 

*

 

Jared woke up to a fateful of blanket and a sleeping Jensen only inches away. The heat radiated off his body like a furnace going full blast and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to snuggle into that heat and bask for a few precious minutes. But, for all that they seemed to have reached an accord of sorts, Jared wasn't stupid enough to believe he had any right to do such a thing. He was still property. He'd do well to remember that.

Breakfast was a haphazard affair, another buffet set out for guest to help themselves as they pleased. Jared helped himself to an extra large helping while Jensen seemed content to nibble at toast while drinking cup after cup of fragrant black coffee. His eyes were barely opened and he moved carefully, much like the majority of those present were doing. There was no way he was actually hung over and Jared knew his morning face by now – he was slow to wake but not this slow. 

Jensen was putting on another show.

Jared was beginning to wonder just how much of what he saw in Jensen was real and how much was a front.

His owner's friend James ambushed them as they were leaving the dining room and insisted they join him for a horseback ride. Jensen groaned theatrically but eventually agreed to no one's surprise. No one asked Jared's opinion on the matter but he for one, was very excited by the prospect. He'd never even seen a horse live and in person before, let alone had the chance to ride one of the magnificent looking animals.

As it turned out, horses were much larger than they appeared on tv. With huge teeth that could no doubt take one of his fingers right off and hooves that could crush his skull as easily as a walnut. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

James took one look at his wary stance and led him to a tan colored horse that was not only somewhat smaller than the others but quieter as well.

“This is buttercup,” James said, motioning for one of the stable slaves to saddle her as Jared watched, wide eyed. “She's a sweetheart. Why don't you say hello to her, introduce yourself.”

He gave Jared a small apple from a nearby bin and sliced it with his pocket knife before passing it to Jared.

“She won't bite. Promise.”

He was right. The horse not only didn't bite him, she gingerly took each bite of apple from his hands, velvety lips tickling his fingertips as she did so. After she was done she nuzzled his hand with her head.

“She's a greedy pig, that one. I think we're ready,” he added, and Jared saw that that not only was his horse saddled but two others had been brought out and were ready to ride. “You need a hand up?”

He did but Jensen shooed him off before James could do more than hold out one hand. Jared eyed the stirrups doubtfully.

“You can do it, Jared. Trust me.”

The truly frightening thing was, he did. Not completely but more than he should. 

As it turned out Jared was able to mount the horse with very little difficulty. Luckily the left leg was the one you led with when getting into the saddle apparently. If it had been the right leg, he'd have had real problems.

“This is amazing,” Jared said once they were underway, and Jensen looked back at him with a smile. He realized he'd interrupted a conversation between the other two men and began to apologize but James would have none of it. Instead he began drawing Jared out, asking him questions about his likes and dislikes, in general treating him like a person. 

He looked to Jensen to see if he was bothered by them talking the way they were but his face revealed nothing more than an enjoyment of the day. All in all, it was the most pleasant morning Jared could remember having in a long, long time.

*

That evening a much smaller version of the party from the day before was held, apparently with only those people invited to stay overnight in attendance. Jared was relieved to see the wolf pack was not there, or the disturbing couple that had accosted them on the veranda. Those who were there were more sedate on average than the larger crowd from the day before, both in manner of dress and demeanor. The ballroom was abandoned in favor of a more cozy gathering space, what looked to be a large living room or den. A couple of small tables were set up for card games, while others were playing billiards over to one side. Yet another group was watching a movie from a group of comfortable looking couches and chairs. Jared hoped they would join them. It had been a long while since he'd watched tv of any sort and the movie that was playing looked interesting.

He was disappointed when Jensen led them over to the pool table instead.

He was not invited to play, as he'd expected, which meant he had little to do besides fetch the odd drink and chalk his owner's cue from time to time. He noted he was the only body slave among this particular group and looked around the room more carefully. There were few slaves in the room overall; counting himself, he saw only four others. Apparently he'd been wrong the night before when he'd thought everyone had brought their own slave. He wondered what it meant that those who'd stayed for the weekend seemed to have a much lower percentage of slaves at their side.

Jared knew little about pool except that the object was to get the ball in the pockets, something Jensen did with impressive regularity. He was a very focused player, concentrating on each shot with an almost disconcerting intensity. Every so often, however, he'd sidle up to Jared and run a hand down his arm, or rub his back, or even stroke his backside suggestively. 

It was getting to him. 

Last night he'd been embarrassed more than anything by all the touching but for some reason, tonight arousal was trumping that emotion with gleeful abandon. He wasn't sure why exactly but didn't really care all that much at the moment either.

Most of those playing pool with his owner pretended not to notice all the gratuitous touching, turning their heads discretely away whenever it got a little too blatant. A couple seemed to be openly bothered by it, although he wasn't sure exactly why. One was clearly aroused by the display Jensen was putting on, watching them with heated eyes and wet lips every single time it happened. Jared made a note to stay far away from him if at all possible.

He did not watch the way Jensen's trousers pulled tight whenever he bent over to take a shot. No really, he didn't. 

Well, maybe a little.

No one could blame him if he did, he was sure. Jensen had an absolutely suburb ass.

*

They left after breakfast the next day. Jensen drove too fast on the way home and got pulled over and ticketed for speeding, spoiling his mood for the rest of the trip. Jared wasn't put off, although he was smart enough to keep quiet until they got home lest his owner's bad tempter be directed towards him. No, he was sure they had reached a new understanding. He hadn't gotten around to just blatantly asking to be kept on instead of being sent on to wherever Jensen sent his body slaves – because he was now sure that was what had been happening to them – but then again, it might be a little too soon for that anyway. He'd give it a couple of weeks before broaching the subject.

Things went on much the same as before, except conversation flowed much more freely between them. Jared no longer felt the need to be so very formal with his owner and treated him much the same way as he had Colin. Never forgetting his place but more like friends than anything else in the privacy of their rooms. While Jensen was naturally much more reserved than Colin, he seemed to like Jared's new found approach and expressed his approval in his own way.

Most evenings were spent either playing games, poker mostly, which Jared knew nothing about, or watching tv. Sometimes Jared even got to pick out what they watched. It was nice. And if Jared sometimes sat a little too close, or pretended not to notice when Jensen's hand lingered on his, then who was to say it was wrong?

They'd been home exactly eight days when Jensen disappeared.

Well, he didn't exactly disappear, if you wanted to get technical about it. Jared was starting to get worried when he hadn't come back to the room, not once all day, and really started to get upset when dinner came and went and it got later and later. No Jensen. He was ten minutes away from risking leaving to rooms to find someone and ask – never mind the rules – when Alan showed up.

“He wanted me to tell you he'll be back tomorrow. Probably. Maybe the day after. So don't worry about him.”

Alan shifted from side to side, looking like he wasn't sure what if anything he should add to that, before finally leaving Jared with an awkward pat on the back.

Jared had no idea what this meant. Was he working? Was there a problem, had something gone wrong? Was he out with friends and decided to make a night of it? 

Did he have a lover?

In retrospect, he'd been overly hasty in deciding Jensen wasn't interested in the sexual side of things, maybe he'd been too quick to judge him unattached as well? Just because he'd never seen him with anyone, or brought them here to his rooms, or spent the night away from his rooms, that didn't necessarily mean anything. For all Jared knew, the other person was otherwise involved and couldn't get away very often. Or traveled. Or... but it wasn't really important, after all. 

What Jensen did with his time was his own business and Jared needed to remember that. They weren't friends or lovers or anything close to that. Jared stayed up late, watching television with the volume turned up far too loud. He'd never been told not to watch it without Jensen present, but he'd never been permission to either, so it felt like a rebellion to him. In the end he fell asleep on the couch, feet dangling uncomfortably off the edge.

Jensen didn't come back the next day, either.

In fact, he finally came home around one in the morning that night, humming a pleasant sounding ditty as he did. It grated on Jared's nerves like nothing ever had before.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly from the doorway of his cubical, feeling a little thrill of pleasure at the way Jensen jumped in surprise.

“Jesus! I thought you'd be in bed, kid.” Jensen sat on the edge of his bed and began awkwardly tugging on his boots. Jared's training kicked in and he went over to help. Jensen sighed his thanks before flopping onto the bed fully clothed. “I'm beat so keep it down. No breakfast. Just need sleep.” He managed to roll over onto his side before he passed out fully, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Jared leaned in. No alcohol smell, which left simple exhaustion. He didn't acknowledge the loosening that took place somewhere in his chest at simply having Jensen back home or what that might mean, so he went back to bed and got some sleep of his own.

Things seemed to be back to normal until Jared went to the kitchen to pick up their breakfast trays the next morning. Two, just in case Jensen woke up after all. Robby was at the sink but in Linda's usual spot was someone new. Two someone's actually, sisters from the look of them. They were washing and rinsing dishes with a brisk efficiency born of long practice, heads bent over the sink in single minded devotion to duty.

“Excuse me,” Jared said, even as an odd roaring began building in his ears, “Do you know where Linda is?”

The girls looked at him and then at each other before one answered him, clearly not sure she should be doing so. “We don't know who that is. Sorry,”

Jared nodded at the words he'd been mostly expecting. With a flagrant disregard of what might happen if he should be caught breaking the rules, he made a long detour on the way back to Jensen's apartments. He ignored the room that had been his for such a brief period of time and knocked on 12B. He'd never actually been inside before but he knew for a fact it was Linda's, had seen inside more than once while passing by.

No one answered. He opened the door anyway. A part of him hoped she'd be there anyway, apparently because his heart sank at the sight of the empty sterile room. The odd collection of worthless trinkets she'd gathered like a magpie were gone – the pictures from magazines she thought were pretty, interesting rocks from the garden and so forth. Gone like she was, it seemed. 

Gone for good?

Jared waited until it was time to return the breakfast trays to track down Carla and ask. He was sent back to his owner's rooms with no answers but plenty of warnings about staying out of trouble. Alan was gone, which left only Jensen if he wanted a real answer.

He was still sleeping, so Jared decided to pass the time by polishing his boots, the same boots he'd helped him take off the night before. It was one of the few new jobs Jared had picked up since the party, after confessing one night that time sometimes hung heavy alone in the apartment. Jensen had looked sympathetic and together they'd come up with some tasks to keep him occupied. 

Shining Jensen's shoes was one of his favorites The smell of the polish, watching the leather go from dull to gleaming was enjoyable in a way that most wouldn't anticipate. This time would be the exception. Because almost as soon as he began, Jared began finding them. Small drops of blood, flecks really, long dried but undeniably there, over the front part of both both boots. The maroon color was dark enough that it didn't stand out against the black – no one would even notice them unless they got very close. Much like he was doing now.

When he realized what, exactly he was cleaning off his owner's boots Jared froze before setting it down on the small table he was working from. 

He didn't scream. 

He didn't run.

He didn't move or make a sound at all, actually, not until Jensen woke up some time later and came stumbling out, blurry eyed as always. Like it was just another day, not the day in which Jared's hopes and dreams were shattered beyond recognition.

When he emerged some time later Jared was still sitting there and he yawned at him.

“Is it lunch time? I'm starved, so say it's time for lunch.”

When Jared didn't answer he continued, “If not, see if you can rustle me up a sandwich, okay? Seriously hungry over here.”

Jared finally broke free of his dangerous state of stasis long enough to mumble an indistinct answer and flee to the kitchen, where a plate of sandwiches were procured in short order. He operated solely on autopilot, making his way back to the apartment and handing Jensen the plate without a word.

His owner eyed him oddly as he ate but apparently he hadn't been overstating his appetite and waited until he was done to talk.

“You're mad at me for leaving like that, aren't you?”

Jared smiled a little at that because anger was a world away from what he was feeling right now. Maybe later, when the shock had worn off, but for now it was … well, it wasn't anger.

“No? Okay. That's good. So what did you do while I was gone?”

No mention of where he'd been or what he'd done but then, he should have expected it, thought Jared. The closeness he'd felt growing between them was nothing more than an illusion, a stupid, stupid fantasy that he should have known wasn't real.

Just like Jensen wasn't real. He showed different parts of himself to the different people in his life while keeping the real Jensen so well hidden that no one knew him at all. Except maybe the missing slaves. Maybe they were the one's unfortunate enough to meet Jensen’s true personality, the one that he only let out to play with the ones who didn't matter.

Like him.

He'd probably know soon enough.

He wondered if anyone would go looking for him, the way he had for Linda, for all the good it had done. Probably not. No one knew him as more than a name and a face. He was nothing and no one.

The cleaning rag was dark red by the time he finished with the boots, long after Jensen had dressed and left for the day. He threw it away without a second thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Something was off with the kid, and had been ever since he'd come back. He'd thought at first it was jealousy or even just that he was upset at being left behind. But now he's not so sure.

Jared was obviously trying to pretend nothing was different but he was doing an absolutely terrible job at it. Every word he spoke sounded forced and unnatural, while the laughter that had been making a very recent appearance was gone entirely once more. They still sat together in the evenings but if they should happen to touch Jared would jerk away as if burned.

He was pretty sure this was more than simply being miffed at the way he'd left. After three days of this, Jensen finally got fed up enough to sit Jared down and talk with him.

“So, you want to tell me what's up?”

Jared's eyes slid away from his as he answered with a plastic grin, “I'm not sure what you mean?”

“Jared. Don't play games. All of a sudden you're acting like I've got a contagious disease or something.”

Jared smiled harder, as though that would make him look more convincing. It did pretty much the exact opposite. He didn't seem to know what to say to that, so Jensen continued on, “I promise to take you with me next time, if that helps.”

Jared nodded and thanked him dutifully but looked a little sick as he did so. Jensen dropped it. For now, at any rate. If things didn't improve soon, they'd have another talk and this time he'd get answers.

 

*

It was about a week later, a whole week of uncomfortable silences and awkward pauses, that Jensen announced they were going to another party. Jared wasn't nearly as bothered by this as before, now that he knew what to expect, but the thought of spending hours alone in a car with Jensen kind of made him want to throw up. That's when he learned they wouldn't be traveling alone.

“I think you know Robby? Worked in the kitchens with you?” Jensen said casually, as though there was nothing in the least bit off about what he was proposing.

“Why?” Jared blurted out without thinking. Now that it was out, however, he found the courage to add, “He can't, he's not... why would you want to bring him to one of those parties?”

Jensen looked thoughtful and scratched his chin before answering. “I think it's time for Robby to go somewhere else.”

“You're selling him?” Jared ventured, a tiny blossom of hope that he wasn't aware even existed until that very moment blooming into life at the words. Jensen, however, hesitated just long enough for Jared to read the lie in his answer.

“Yes. I've got someone who will give him a good home. Who will take care of him. Don't you want that for him?”

That's exactly what Jared did want, of course, but he had no faith that what Jensen was promising was actually going to happen. “When do we leave?” he asked in lue of the things he really wanted to say and was dismayed to hear it was only three days off. 

“I need to work with him first,” Jared said, a nascent plan forming in his mind. “Get him ready so he doesn't get upset.” When Jensen hesitated he added craftily, “He's likely to have a temper tantrum if I don't. He hates it when things are changed around.” Jensen gave in at that, as expected, because no one wants to deal with a hundred pounds of kicking and screaming teenager instead of pliant obedience.

“You've got three days,” he reminded Jared, as though he was likely to forget, and Jared nodded.

“We'll be ready.”

It took him two to put together a plan, a plan that was almost certainly doomed from the onset but one which he hoped was the best option. He had to give it shot, no matter what. Robby was an innocent, even more so than he had been at that age, and deserved a chance. If they could make it to the border they'd be home free, a difficult but not impossible three hundred some odd miles away. Of course, they'd be making the journey on foot. While avoiding any sort of law enforcement or overly nosy freemen. With no money and very little in the way of supplies, because carrying large packs would look far too suspicious.

Hard, but not impossible. 

At least that's what Jared kept telling himself.

He tried not to dwell too much on it, because the more he thought about all the things that could go wrong the more he wanted to give up, cross his fingers and hope he was wrong about everything. The thing was, though, it wasn't just him that would pay for his cowardice, it was Robby. 

His escape plan was simple. He'd seen a grocery truck make deliveries twice a week, a good sized van that the two of them should be able to hide in easily, provided it was unattended long enough for them to sneak inside. Once past the gates he'd have to improvise, but first things first.

“C'mon, Robby,” he whispered, tugging on the boy's shirt impatiently. “Hurry now.” Robby gave no sign of having heard his words but miraculously did as he was told. Jared waited until he heard voices through the open kitchen door – he was pretty sure the delivery man had a thing for one of the workers and lingered longer than he should – and hurried Robby in through the open doors of the van. Once inside, he managed to pile boxes around Robby and himself, enough to hide them from a causal inspection at any rate, and gave him last minute instructions. 

“Remember what I told you. This is really, really, really important. Don't get up until I say. Don't make noise until I say. Please Robby.” The boy gave no sign he heard Jared's words whatsoever but he stayed put as asked.

Nerves were worn thin by the time the driver finally made it back to the van, closing the rear doors with a loud bang and casting them into darkness. The engine started up soon after and the boxes around them lurched, threatening to topple over as they began to move. Robby made a little noise of distress and Jared whispered reassurances that he only half believed, heart in his throat until he was fairly sure they were beyond the gates. 

He knew it was a false sense of security. In reality they were no safer out here than inside the estate but it still felt more like freedom than anything he'd known for a long, long time. 

They made a break for it on the first stop, pushing past the startled driver standing at the back of the van with desperate abandon to race past him and into the countryside. One of Jared's many fears – that they'd find themselves behind another set of walls and thus be trapped once more – had proved unfounded. Jared thanked whatever deity watched over runaway slaves and prayed for a bit more luck to be on their side as they headed off into woods. 

The first night wasn't so bad. They slept huddled together in a small indentation Jared found under a tree, with leaves making a rough blanket. Robby didn't seem to mind the contact for once, although Jared was pretty sure he was mostly putting up with it for the body heat. They resumed their march north the next morning, using the sun as a compass and avoiding people whenever possible. The few they encountered here and there ignored them as a general rule, though the ones that gave them second looks made his heart race every time. The cover story he'd prepared, that they were fetching a pair of cows that their owner had purchased back to his farm, was as thin as a tissue. A few pointed questions would tear it to ribbons and undoubtedly buy them more trouble than they could handle.

Above all, he kept his eyes open, on the lookout for the dreaded SS uniform. Slave Security forces were notoriously ruthless in their dealings with runaways, almost anything would be better than being caught by those particular thugs.

Four days later – four days of very little food and water, of sleeping under bushes and above all, dealing with the constant threat of discovery, and Jared was exhausted. Robby was cranky and getting more uncooperative by the hour – not that Jared blamed him much, given what he was having to cope with. To top things off, he'd been hearing thunder off in the distance for the past hour or so. 

Robby kicked at a rock underfoot and glared at nothing. 

“I know, buddy. You're hungry and tired. What's say we treat ourselves a little tonight, okay?”

Robby didn't answer verbally, of course, but Jared was much better now at picking up on his body language, and he was pretty sure he was down with that plan.

The barn wasn't much, at least, it wouldn't be to most people, but to Jared it looked like a little slice of heaven. At the least it would keep them warm and dry tonight. If fortune was really smiling on them there would be something edible inside they could scavenge.

There was no food. But the hay was clean and dry and Jared promised Robby they'd hunt for berries in the morning when they left. He ignored his own rumbling belly as best he could, and settled in for a good nights rest.

He woke up several hours later to find Jensen standing over him, watching him sleep impassively. Jared's whole body jerked with an instinctive urge to flee, an urge that was immediately quelled by one upraised hand.

“Don't even think about it,” his owner said, in a cold dead voice that froze Jared's blood in his veins. “Just... get in the car, Jared.”

Jared nodded and got up slowly, his body stiff from the night before. Robby was awake and squatting behind him, eyes fixated on the floor. There were other people there, Alan and Carla and more that he didn't know by name, all watching him with that same disturbing lack of expression Jensen had. One went to grab Robby's arm, no doubt to get him into the car and predictably, Robby reacted badly. The shriek was deafening, startling the man so much he dropped Robby's arm. Like a switch had been cut off, Robby stopped the ungodly noise and then did something remarkable. He edged closer to Jared. It was the first time he'd even given any direct indication that he knew Jared was there, much less that he wanted his protection. 

“Wait, please,” Jared begged, “Let me. I can get him in the car, if you'll just let me do it.” At a nod from Jensen, they did. 

Robby was perfectly content to ride in the car with Jared, Jensen and two guards. Jared felt like he was suffocating, not only from the close quarters but from the knowledge beating in his heart and his head that he'd failed, failed utterly and completely. There would be no second chances. The small amount of trust he'd managed to gain during his time with Jensen had been washed away into nothingness and his fate was almost certainly sealed. Even if by some miracle nothing they said about Jensen was true and he was nothing more than an average slave owner, there was no way an offense as egregious as actually running away would be over forgiven. At the very least, he'd be beaten severely. 

And that was the best case scenario.

And Robby, who would no doubt share his fate, probably wouldn't even understand what was happening to him.

“He didn't want to come,” Jared said into the thick silence of the car. “I made him. He didn't. He doesn't understand what he did, what we did. Please don't hurt him.”

Jensen closed his eyes for a minute in apparent anger before answering him tightly, “Not now, Jared. We'll talk at home.”

They didn't, however, at least not right away. Jared was hustled in through a back door and down a flight of stairs into the basement. He was sure he remembered someone saying the laundry was down here but that must be in another section because all he saw was gray walls and narrow corridors that dead ended in a large open room filled floor to ceiling with empty slave cells. They looked old and rusty with disuse but Jared suspected that was about to change.

He was forced to duck to avoid banging his forehead as Alan shoved him, none too gently, into one of the middle cages. The sound of the old fashioned key turning in the lock was unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room. It was only as they were leaving that he realized Robby was not there, not being locked into one of the other cages as he'd expected. He called out, demanding to know where the boy was.

No one answered him, not at first. After everyone but him had left, however, Jensen stepped up to the cage and spoke, his voice full of tightly contained rage. “You'd do well to worry about your own skin, Jared and let me worry about Robby.” With those ominous words, he left the room, and Jared, behind.

With nothing to do but wait and worry, time slowed to a crawl. He strained listening for any sound that might give him some idea of what was going on in the world outside this room but especially what was happening with Robby. There was nothing but echoing silence to be heard. No shrieks of fear or pain, no thud of flesh being struck violently, nothing at all.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that the same man who had protected him could hurt an innocent like Robby. Or himself for that matter, but he could at least understand that. A runaway slave was fair game in almost any one's mind – no one would fault Jensen for almost anything he choose to do to Jared.

Be brave, be brave, he repeated to himself like a mantra, as the day wore on the room got colder and colder as night settled in. Jared was sitting against the wall, legs pulled up tight in an effort to conserve body heat when Jensen finally reappeared. He was flanked by Alan and two other men, one of whom he knew in passing, the other of which was wholly unfamiliar.

“Up,” Jensen barked and Jared wanted to say I'm not a dog but this was so not the time for sass, if there ever was one. So instead he got to his feet, his injured leg both throbbing and numb from the cold and prolonged inactivity. He knew Jensen saw the difficulties he was having getting up, saw the way his eyes flicked down and then back up again but if anything, his voice got even colder.

“We don't have all day,” he said, and Alan and the other man took that as their cue to haul Jared out themselves. Without another word he was half led, half dragged back out into the hallway, down the corridor and into a small gray room, bare save for three plain, straight back chairs. Jared was unceremoniously dumped into one. 

No one else sat down, choosing instead to loom over him in an extremely intimidating manner.

One of the men, the guard Jared knew by sight, stepped outside to presumably stand guard at the door. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Jensen finally spoke. 

“I... We need to know what you know Jared. And who you told. No one is leaving this room until you tell us everything.”

Jared waited for the words to make sense. “I don't understand,” he finally said, clearing his throat when he realized how thin his voice sounded. “Know about what?” he added, more strongly.

Alan stepped forward and raised his hand to strike Jared but the other man stopped him with a sharp look.

“Let's not get started off on the wrong foot, here, okay?” the stranger said, his mood almost light in contrast with that of everyone else. It was more than a little disconcerting. Jared stared at him, wondering if they somehow knew each other. He seemed to know Jared well enough, judging by his demeanor. “I've heard a lot about you, Jared, but I'd hoped we would be meeting under different circumstances. I'm Misha.”

“I don't understand,” Jared repeated, because maybe if he kept saying it someone would listen. Jensen and Misha exchanged a look, full of information that Jared was not privy to, before Misha finally spoke again. 

“Here's the thing, Jared. You ran away, for no apparent reason. We need to know why. We need to know who you talked to and what you told them. And we need to know now.”

Jared had done everything in his power to avoid talking to anyone since he'd run away with Robby, but he wasn't at all sure anyone would believe anything he had to say. All he could do was try. “I ran away because I was afraid,” he said simply and Misha interrupted before he could add anything further.

“Afraid of what, Jared? Afraid of Jensen? Had he done something to hurt you?”

Jared watched Jensen's face flush at the implication but he cut that line of reasoning off at the knees. 

“No, he hasn't done anything to me, nothing bad anyway, but ...”

“But what, Jared?” Jensen broke in, leaning over Jared with nostrils flaring. “What would drive you to leave here, where you were safe, and go running around the countryside where bounty hunters or the cops or God knows who could take you into custody? Do you have any idea what they do to runaways, Jared? Pretty much anything they feel like. So long as you're breathing when you are returned to me, no one would say a word. So tell me why, why you would not only put yourself in danger but Robby too? Was it for him? Did you have a thing for him and thought this would be your big romantic gesture, that you'd run away together and live happily ever after? Because if so, that is the stupidest...”

“No!” Jared broke in, horrified. “Robby is just a kid. And well, you know. Robby.”

“Jensen. We don't have time for this,” Misha said quietly and somehow the tension in the room died down a little. Jared thought he'd probably be a nice person to know in other, better circumstances. “What were you afraid of, Jared?” he asked once again and this time Jensen gave him space to answer.

“I was afraid of Jensen,” he said simply. “Not because of something he'd done, but because, well, everyone kept telling me these terrible things about him. And then Linda went missing and you were gone too and no one would say where. And there were the others who disappeared and you wanted to take Robby away and I thought, I thought...”

“You thought I was killing them,” Jensen said, and he sounded so sad and defeated that Jared rushed to justify himself.

“It looked bad. You have to admit that. It looked really, really bad.”

Jensen looked over Jared's shoulder, fixating on the wall behind him. “I know it did. I guess I thought you... well, that doesn't matter now.”

But the wheels in Jared's mind were spinning now, as pieces of the puzzle started to coalesce into a cohesive whole. Suddenly it all made a wild, crazy kind of sense. “You wanted it to look bad, didn't you?” he breathed, and Jensen's eyes suddenly snapped back to his. “You spread those rumors yourself so you'd look like a monster – pretty much the last person anyone would suspect of helping slaves. This is – you are – one of those underground railroad people! You aren't killing them, you're saving them!”

Jensen and Misha exchanged another one of those long wordless looks and Jared knew he was right. 

“I haven’t told anybody. I swear. I didn't put it together until just now. I swear,” he repeated as Jensen showed no signs of being convinced by Jared's words.

“Jared...” Misha began, but Jared was too caught up in his revelations to pay attention to other man. 

“All those stupid parties, that's why you go to them. So you look like one of them. But worse. A lot worse. Do you send them to the next stop there, at the parties? Are some of them in on it?” Because Jared could see James being one of them, but the large majority of the people he'd met, not so much.

“No. It's just a convenient excuse to travel, Jared. We hand them off elsewhere,” Misha said and Jared nodded. That made sense, when you thought about it.

“So what happens now?” he asked after the silence had stretched between them long enough to become uncomfortable once more.

“Now?” Jensen said, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “I had planned on keeping you with me another few weeks, then sending you out of the country.”

“There is a colony of sorts, with access to health care. Jensen has been very concerned about your leg, Jared. All your medical records have already been forwarded to one of our doctors there. You can leave now, tonight, if you want.” Misha was watching him closely as he spoke and Jared realized belatedly that he was being asked to make a decision.

He was being offered a chance at freedom and the possibility of having his leg restored back to normal, or at least made better. It was almost too much to take in. Jared looked from face to face, Alan standing with arms crossed, his anger still plain in his stance. Misha, watching him with an open face and obvious concern, wanting nothing more than to help Jared and others like him. And Jensen, who was back to studying the wall.

“You need me, don't you?” he asked Jensen, who hunched in on himself at the question but didn't answer. “I was part of your cover. The poor abused body slave who mysteriously disappears when you supposedly get tired of me.”

Jensen shrugged. “There are others who would do just as well.”

Jared snorted inelegantly. “People are scared shitless of you, well, the slaves are, anyway. I'll bet it's all you can do to find someone who doesn't freak out when you look at them funny. And can deal with the idiots at those parties you go to. No, you need someone like me. You need me,” he said emphatically, knowing in his bones that he was right.

“Jared...” Misha began before Jared added, “No, I mean it. A few more weeks isn't going to matter and it's what was planned anyway. I want to help.”

“No offense, Jared, but how do we know we can trust you?” Jensen said harshly.

Jared spread his hands in supplication. “I have no reason to want to help the SS. They have nothing to use as leverage over me. I have no family they can threaten. Wait,” he said, changing the subject as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place, “is that why everyone was so cold to me? To all of us new guys?”

“We have no way of knowing who is a mole,” Jensen said defensively. “SS has done it before. Last year one of ours lost everything because a spy brought down their operation. Every single slave was sent to the mines. I can't risk that with my people. Everyone here is here by choice, they are risking everything to stay and help. So no one is told the truth until the day they are sent away to safety. Not a minute before. And since all our permanent residents are in the know, I ask them to give newcomers – unknowns - a wide berth. It's too easy to let things slip otherwise.” 

And that was apparently all the apology he was going to get for the weeks of anxiety and fear he suffered through, Jared realized.

“So Linda's okay?”

“Delivered her myself. A little bitchy and bad tempered but fine,” Alan said shortly, startling Jared as he spoke for the first time.

“And Robby?”

“We already evacuated him, along with almost everyone else, Jared. As a precaution. He's fine,” Misha added, forestalling the question he no doubt read on Jared's face before he could voice it.

“Good. That's good,” Jared said, and squashed down the selfish part of him that wished he could have at least said goodbye to his friend. “I'm cold,” Jared announced to the room at large. “Is there any way we can wrap this up upstairs? Where there's heat?” Much more than the lack of heat was bothering him, of course, but there was no need to share how desperate he was to escape this small underground room that only minutes ago he'd feared would be his tomb.

Misha looked startled at his cheekiness before smiling at him, wide and warm. “I'm starting to see why Jensen talks about you so much,” he said and Jared was left to wonder exactly what had been said about him and when as they all made their way upstairs.

It wasn't until later that night, when Jared was almost asleep in his too small bed that the thought that had been niggling at him finally made itself known. He got up, stumbling a little in his haste, and made his way to Jensen's bedside, who was fast asleep. Jared did something he wouldn't have dreamed of doing before today – he shook him awake, for no good reason except to get an answer to his question.

“Jensen,” he said, shaking the other man gently by the shoulder. “Jensen!” he said louder, and shook him harder when that didn't work. Finally two green eyes opened enough to blear at him.

“What? What is it?” he said, still mostly asleep.

“What about the blood?” Jared asked.

“Blood?” Jensen said, looking a little more alert now and propping himself up on his elbows. “What blood? Are you hurt?”

“No! Not me, the blood on your shoes!”

“Jared, why don't you pretend I have no idea what you're talking about and just say what you have to say so I can go back to sleep,” Jensen said, dropping back onto the bed now that it was clear there was no imminent threat or injuries to deal with.

“I cleaned your boots, Jensen. I saw the blood on them. I thought, well, that doesn't matter. I just want to know where it came from.”

“There was blood on my boots?” Jensen repeated stupidly before realization dawned in his voice. “Oh, that. I hit a dog. Poor thing. Dark road and it darted out in front of the car. Got out and tried to help but it was no use. Poor thing,” he repeated, by now more asleep than awake.

Jared sat back on his hands and watched Jensen's eyes drift shut. A dog. Sad, but compared to the alternative... Acting on an impulse he couldn't explain even to himself, he bent over and kissed Jensen on the cheek. One green eye opened back up to look at him.

“What was that for?” he asked sleepily.

“Nothing. Good night.”

“Night.”

With that Jared went back to his bed and hugged his knees in excitement. In just a few weeks he'd be free and he'd have hopefully help some other slaves to freedom in the meantime. For now, all he had to do was play his part.

Simple.


	6. Chapter 6

The transformation was truly amazing.

Although a transformation wasn't what it was, not really. It wasn't even that Jared had been _hiding_ his true self, more that he'd been dimmed, in a way. His lively personality and bright mind had been mostly obscured behind a smoke screen of his own devising, out of dire necessity.

Jensen had seen it before, in other slaves he'd helped. Some were so broken that they never recovered their true selves while others took years to come back. With Jared, it was gone as easily as a sweet spring breeze blew away an early morning fog. With everyone except him.

Things were easier between them now, it was true. Jared joked with him, talked with him, made an obvious effort to treat him the same way he would anyone else but there was sometimes a reserve between them. Every so often he could see him holding his tongue instead of speaking his mind, or being a little too deferential to Jensen's wishes. Jensen understood where it came from; if someone else held all legal rights over him he'd probably walk on eggshells around him or her as well.

It still bothered him, far more than it should have.

It rankled when Jared learned Theresa's favorite song and sang it to her for her birthday, laughing right along with everyone else at his complete lack of singing skills. It burned when Jared spent a whole day helping Thomas fix the broken fence on the back five, coming back in flushed and exhausted but happy from his day of outside work. And it really stung when he got Carla to smile. Jensen had known Carla for thirteen years and had never once, to his recollection, seen her smile. But somehow Jared did.

He seemed determined to make up for lost time and spent his days exploring the mausoleum Jensen called home, helping out wherever he was needed and making friend after friend with the sheer force of his personality. In the short amount of time since he'd been let in on the truth and consequently been given the run of the house, Jensen was pretty sure he'd learned the names of everyone living here and the life stories of most. 

Although it was taking everything he had to keep Jared from befriending their two newest arrivals, the Jackson sisters.

“They're so scared, Jensen,” Jared had said just last night, looking at him with those sad, puppy eyes. Jensen was pretty sure he even saw a tear lurking, which was _really_ unfair. He wasn't made of stone, after all. “They don't know anyone here and don't know what's going to happen to them and I know I shouldn't say anything about, you know, but maybe I could just hint a little bit that everything's going to be okay? Be a friend? Please?”

And Jensen _hated_ this, hated feeling like the bad guy but really, there was no choice.

“You know that's not an option, Jared,” he said, and turned back to his ledger so he wouldn't have to look in those eyes anymore.

“You can't really think they are spies. Or moles or whatever. Have you _seen_ them?”

“I have not,” Jensen admitted, trying to add a column of numbers that stubbornly refused to give him the correct answer. “But it doesn't matter. I know anyone can be coerced into doing things they wouldn't normally do if enough pressure is put on them. If the _right_ pressure is put on them,” he added before he risked a look at Jared and immediately wished he hadn't. Because he didn't look sulky or pouty or even angry; he looked dejected and a little bit cynical, which was a thousand times worse.

“I guess you're right,” he agreed, but he didn't look happy about it.  
  
Which was okay. Jensen wasn't happy about it either.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jensen told him about the trip they'd be taking only two days before they were due to leave. 

“Another house party?” Jared asked, idly tracing the blue stripe in the plaid couch with the side of his thumb. 

“That's right,” Jensen answered and looked at him as if he were waiting for an objection. He didn't know why Jensen thought he'd mind, getting the Jackson sisters on their way to a better life could only be a good thing. 

“You'll need to treat me like you did before. Maybe even more so.” He didn't sound as if he was sure Jared could do it. 

“So I need to play the poor abused slave, terrified of his owner but trying not to show it?” Jared said, not looking up.

He heard Jensen shift in his chair before answering. “That about sums it up, yes.”

“And you'll still be feeling me up whenever you think anyone's looking at me sideways?” Jared's tone is still idle, but he looks up at Jensen through his lashes. As he'd predicted, Jensen looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“That's not...”

“Really? It kind of felt to me like you were staking a claim.”

“Maybe because that's what I wanted it to look like.” Jensen's tone was firm now, uncompromising. 

“Okay,” Jared said mildly, because he wasn't stupid enough to push an issue before it's time.

  

*****

 

As it turned out, the Jackson sisters were going to have to wait until their next run to start their new life.

“Thomas?” Jared said, confused, as they stood next to the car ready to leave.

“Got a sister up in Canada, she's not doing so well,” Thomas said, not looking at him as he spoke. “Lived here most of my life, you know. I know every inch of that garden by heart.” He was staring at the house and grounds with a look most men reserved for loved ones.

“It's not too late, Thomas,” Jensen said from his position near the car's trunk. He loaded another bag inside before adding. “That offer to get Amanda a home health nurse still stands.” 

But Thomas shook his head, his face losing it's wistfulness to become set in determination.

“No, family is what's needed at a time like this. I'd never forgive myself if my only blood had to die alone. It's just kind of hard, knowing I'll never see this place again.” He waited until they were all seated inside before adding, “Lotta bad times here, but a lot of good, too. You've done a lot of good here, Jensen. I'm glad I was able to help for a while.”

Jensen's voice was rough as he answered, “I couldn't have done it without you.”

 

 

*****

 

The drop off was somewhat anti-climatic.

Jared had had visions of what a meeting of this sort would be like, and what the person they were meeting would look like. He didn't expect a bright, bubbly blond who looked barely out of her teens.

“Hey! You're Thomas right?” Without waiting for an answer she turned to Jensen, “Any problems?” At his negative response she continued, “Better be off, then.”

With one last handshake that Thomas turned into a hug, Jensen said his goodbyes and they were gone. Jared watched them leave in the nondescript Toyota Camry, Thomas' face a blur through the foggy side window glass.

“It's never easy, is it.” He said into the silence. Jensen looked at him and he added, “Saying goodbye.”

Jensen didn't answer but then again, he didn't need to. He didn't wear his emotions as plainly as some people but his sadness at saying goodbye to his friend was palpable.

“I'll go visit, one day,” he said eventually, and his voice was even rougher than before.

Which would be nice, he was sure, but visiting was worlds away from seeing someone on a daily basis. He touched Jensen's arm in silent commiseration, squeezing it a bit before letting go.

 

*****

 

He'd thought wearing the humiliating clothes would be easier this time around, knowing what he knew.

It wasn't.

Jared pulled ineffectively at the hem of his tunic, trying to make it cover more of what the leggings didn't.

“If you rip it, there's no time to stop and change,” Jensen said without looking away from the road. Jared stopped fiddling with his clothing even though he was sure the threat was an empty one.

“Will the same people be there?” he asked, mostly to distract himself from the upcoming ordeal.

“Most of them,” Jensen answered. “The young people show up for a chance to make mischief, while the older ones network. Plus, it's expected.”

Putting aside the baffling conundrum of an entire class of people who thought it acceptable to waste large amounts of their time on parties, he asked “Business or pleasure networking?”, because from what he'd seen it could have gone either way.

“Both,” Jensen answered. “Sometimes at the same time.”

“And the creepy brother and sister? And the wolves? Will they be there?” Jared asked, not quite as casually.

“Brother and sister?” Jensen said, as if trying to puzzle out who Jared could be talking about.

“You know, with the hair and the ' _Is this a new vice?'_ ” he said in a falsetto voice that made Jensen laugh a little bit.

“Oh, you mean... no, they're a couple. Married.”  
  
“Married?” Jared had been sure this was a vice even the very rich didn't indulge in. It seemed he was wrong.

“They aren't related. Well, not brother and sister, anyway. Fourth cousins maybe? Third? I'm not sure. But not brother and sister.”

Jared's voice betrayed his confusion. “But they look so much alike.”  
  
Jensen shrugged. “I don't think they breed far outside the family. Ever.”

“Huh,” Jared didn't comment further but spent much of the remaining trip speculating to himself on the odd ways and strange mannerisms of the wealthy.

 

 

*****

 

Jensen freely admitted to himself that he'd doubted Jared could pull the deception off. Pretending to be a frightened and abused slave on a full time basis wasn't an easy task, even given Jared's past. And to be honest, Jared's personality was so open that his every thought and feeling tended to show on his face as if written in indelible ink. Even before, when he'd kept his personality mostly hidden, it generally wasn't all that hard to know what was going on with him at any given moment in time.

Jensen was man enough to admit when he was wrong.

The minute they stepped out of the car, the Jared he knew disappeared, replaced by a cowed and beaten slave he'd yet to meet. His eyes were lowered, his face impassive, and yet he still managed to project a very definite air of carefully concealed terror.

It wasn't until they reached the privacy of their rooms, and after Jared checked and double checked that they were actually alone, that Jared dropped the act.

“No nick-knacks,” he said, which Jensen didn't understand. When asked for an explanation Jared simply pointed to his leg and rolled his eyes. Jensen loved it when Jared was like this – not holding anything back with him, no reserve, just being himself.

They left for the party not long afterwards.

James wasn't there, which was a pity, as he always made these things more bearable. Most of his friends had deserted him when he'd thrown himself into this fiction his life had become so wholeheartedly; some predictably, others that were a painful surprise, but a few had stayed true. Sometimes he wasn't sure how he felt about that, if he was grateful that they liked him despite what they thought they knew about him or despised them for the very same thing.

He was pretty sure _he_ wouldn't want to be friends with himself. And that was enough to make his head spin so he stopped thinking about it, stopped thinking about everything as much as possible and threw himself into the role of the dissolute, hedonistic self-centered bastard. It was a role he knew well. A role he could play in his sleep. Even when being distracted by a near perfect backside, being shown off far too much for his peace of mind by a too short tunic.

“We're getting you new clothes the minute we get back,” he muttered to Jared in an aside.

Jared held character much better than he did and showed only the smallest flash of surprise before bowing his head respectfully. “Yes, Sir,” was his only reply and Jensen missed the Jared he knew so much it hurt.

Hiram and Johanna were there, as predicted, but were sufficiently distracted by what he was pretty sure was a new body slave to leave them alone. The wolf pack was there in full force, however, and seemed intent on causing as much trouble as possible without actual being kicked out of the party. Jared, he noted, seemed keenly aware of not only them as potential threats but just about everyone else. Which was nothing but good for his continued well being but Jensen wished it weren't so, that he was somewhere safe and not surrounded by this pool of piranhas.

As he circulated through the party Jared was following him in the traditional manner, just behind him and to the left, which was great for authenticity but sucked as far as keeping a close eye on him. In fact, he nearly missed it when Jared was waylaid by a boy he didn't recognize.

Jensen stalked back the three yards or so that separated him from Jared.

“I've told you to stay with me,” he snarled at Jared in his best pissed off douchbag voice.

Jared ducked his head and flinched backwards convincingly. “Sorry, Sir,” he mumbled and stood there rigidly, apparently awaiting his fate. Not entirely still, however, Jensen noted. His hands were trembling, very minutely. By now the boy who had accosted him was beginning to look alarmed.

“Look, I was just talking to him for a minute...” he began, but Jensen cut him off mid-sentence.

“Don't make excuses for him,” he said, eyes never leaving Jared's, “He knows better than to lag behind.” He leaned in close and added lowly, “Isn't that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jared forced out from between stiff lips.

Amazing. If Jensen didn't know better, he'd swear Jared was terrified beyond reason.

“Come along, then,” he said before turning on his heel to leave. He felt rather than saw Jared trailing along behind him, giving every sign of reluctant obedience.

No one moved to stop them as they left, although the majority of those in the vicinity watched the unfolding spectacle with open curiosity.

And just like that, they were free to leave the party.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jared laughed lowly the minute the door to their room was closed behind them.

“Did you really want to leave _that_ much?”  
  
Jensen didn't try and hide his own answering grin, pleased at his own cleverness. “Two birds with one stone. Nothing wrong with that.”

Jared obviously couldn't argue with that logic, so he didn't even try. “I'm not complaining. Just, you know, now we're pretty much stuck in here until morning. Do you maybe have a deck of cards or something?”

Jensen produced exactly that from a pocket of his suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “Never leave home without them,” he proclaimed, and sat down at the small writing desk. “Pull up a chair and prepare to get your ass handed to you.”

With an opening like that there was no way Jared could resist a comeback. He'd barely opened his mouth, however when Jensen cut him off with one upraised finger. “Don't even think about it,” he said with a mock scowl and Jared closed his mouth without a word.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Ruin all my fun.” His pretend pout soon turned to gloating as he proceeded to win hand after hand of five card stud.

“Didn't know I was playing a card shark,” Jensen said mildly as Jared shuffled the next hand.

“I am a man of many talents,” Jared said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I'll bet you are,” Jensen murmured, then wished he could take the words back. “I didn't mean...”  
  
“It's okay,” Jared said without rancor, carefully studying the cards in his hand. “I'm not a delicate little flower, you know. You don't have to be so careful around me.”

Jensen knew that was true without a doubt. Jared was one of the strongest people he'd ever known. “I don't think many people would describe the way I've treated you as 'careful',” he felt compelled to point out. “Actually, some would say I've done pretty much the opposite.”

“How so?” Jared asked, as if he genuinely didn't know.

“I haven't been exactly, well, nice to you,” Jensen answered after a long pause. He didn't meet Jared’s eyes as he spoke.

“I know what you've done for me,” Jared said quietly. “Call.”

Jensen laid down his cards. “Looks like I win this one.”  
  
Jared's smile was slow and full of promise. “I think you may be right.”

They played until Jared announced that he, for one, was tired and ready for bed and Jensen agreed. He found himself uncountably nervous as he undressed and got ready for bed, listening to the sounds Jared made in the other room as he did the same. He was pretty sure he was missing something, something big, and he didn't like the feeling one little bit. As open a person as Jared was, generally speaking, there were still depths that he had yet to fathom. He had a sudden flash of himself, standing on a precipice, trying to decide whether or not he should jump into the dark unknown.

He didn't know what Jared wanted from him, or even if he had it in him to give it to him. One thing he was pretty sure of, though, was that he didn't have it in him to not _try_ and give him whatever he wanted. At some point, and without even really trying, Jared had wormed his way into his heart and soul.

Jensen suddenly realized he was standing there like an idiot staring into space, and probably had been for some time. He was just climbing into bed when Jared came back into the room, looking fresh and clean and impossibly beautiful.

There was no way this could end well.

Jared looked as untroubled as it was possible to be in the circumstances and wasted no time following Jensen to bed. Sharing a bed was going to be _so_ much more awkward than it had been last time.

“So,” Jensen said, staring at the ceiling.

“So,” Jared echoed, with a definite hint of laughter in his voice. “I have a confession to make.”

Jensen froze before common sense kicked in long enough to remind him Jared probably wouldn't be confessing anything truly terrible here and now. “What is it?” he asked.

“I liked it when you touched me. At the party.”

“Not at first,” Jensen said, because it needed to be said.

“Not at first,” Jared admitted, “Although I can't say I _hated_ it even then. And now...”  
  
“Now?” Jensen prompted, forcing the word out into the dark.

“I've thought about it a lot. The way you ran your hands over me, touching my back, my arms, my hair, my ...”

“Why?” Jensen broke in, anxious for him to get to the point.

“Because I knew _why_ you were doing it, staking a claim over me, telling everyone to back off without words. And even though I thought at the time it was mostly because you were being possessive, it still felt like protection. And on a purely physical level, it turned me on.”

“It did?” Jensen repeated stupidly.

“ _You_ did,” Jared said before flipping over in one fluid motion to land on top of Jensen, bracketing him with him arms.

“What are you...” is all Jensen had time to get out before Jared kissed him, slow and sweet and deep and there were no more words between them for a long time. In fact, it wasn't until Jared's hands started wandering a little too much that he even thought about stopping.

“Slow down,” he panted, grabbing Jared's wrist even as his hind brain cursed him for a fool, “Let's not, ah, rush...” and he lost his train of thought as Jared proceeded to nuzzle his neck with obvious intent. Apparently Jared was listening, however, because they didn't do much more than an average teenager on a second date might do. Eventually Jared lay down next to him, resting his head on Jensen's shoulder with a contented sigh.

“That was better than I'd thought it would be,” he said eventually, and Jensen laughed shakily in the dark. There was another long silence before he added, “You're worried I'm only doing this because I feel like I have to, aren't you?”

And yes, that was exactly what Jensen was afraid of. Whether his motivation was an unconscious desire to keep Jensen happy at all costs or simple gratitude didn't matter, Jensen wanted none of it.

“Aren't I allowed to just want this, even this, like anyone else?” Jared said when Jensen didn't respond and he sounded so forlorn that Jensen couldn't help but reassure him.

“Yes, of course you are,” he said, sealing his fate forever.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jared woke to find himself wrapped in a pair of strong arms, his face resting against a muscular chest. He was pretty sure Jensen was awake.

“Hey,” he croaked, before clearing his throat and saying in a more human tone. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Jensen said and Jared could feel the words rumbling through his chest.

“Breakfast?” he said with a yawn.

“Breakfast,” Jensen confirmed before adding, “but first, we need to get you ready for the day.” At Jared's silent question he continued, “I've been supposedly beating you and having my wicked way with you all last night, you can't show up looking all normal this morning.”

Jared waved a hand nonchalantly. “Sure I could. There are _lots_ of things you could do that would hurt like hell and not leave a mark.” Colin would tell him these things from time to time, ways to spice up a love life, even though Jared was fairly sure he'd never actually done any of them. Well, maybe one or two.

Jensen was looking troubled at his words, though, so Jared put them back on topic. “But that's neither here nor there, what did you have in mind?”

 

 

*****

 

 

“Are you _sure_ this looks real?” Jared asked worriedly, studying himself in the mirror as best he could. It was hard to see much, as Jensen had put most of the makeup on his back, so it was difficult for him to judge just how it looked.

“Absolutely,” Jensen said. “The key is to not over do it. Subtle shadings,” he added with a deft dab of brown creme. At Jared's continued look of skepticism, he added, “I've done this before. It always goes over without a hitch.”

“Really?” Jared asked, interested, “with who? Anyone I know?”

“Well,” Jensen said, blending a shadowed stripe diagonally across Jared's back with careful precision, “Carla for one.”

“ _Carla_?” Jared couldn't have sounded more surprised if he'd announced it was the Loch Ness Monster.

“Yes, a long time ago. She wasn't nearly as good as you at this, though.” Which was an understatement. Her stony demeanor wasn't anything next to Jared's act of understated fear.

“Huh,” After a long pause, and sounding like he wasn't sure he should be asking this question but by God he was going to ask it anyway, he added, “Were you two ever...”

“Good God, Jared. The things you come up with, sometimes.” But Jensen couldn't help but smile at the poorly concealed note of jealousy in Jared's voice. “She'd have my nuts on a platter if I ever even thought about it.”

And when Jared laughed out loud in response he smacked him playfully on his shoulder. “I'm done. Time to stop giggling like a girl and get dressed.”

The overall effect was pretty good, if Jensen did say so himself. Jared's tunic for the day was just sheer enough that a vague suggestion of bruises and welts showed through. The final touch was a bit of soap rubbed in Jared's eyes.

It was this, of all things, that Jared had the problem with.

“I'm not a crier,” he insisted with a frown.

“Everyone cries, Jared,” Jensen reminded him as he held out the bar of soap, letting it be his decision. Jared dipped his head in silent acknowledgment of this truth and just a minute later, looked as though he'd spent the night in tears.

“Ready?” Jensen asked and then took a step back as _his_ Jared was replaced with that other Jared. It was eerie how quickly and well he did that.

“Yes, Master Jensen,” he replied. The show was on once more.

 

 

*****

 

 

Jensen was immersed in another game of billiards when Jared respectfully asked permission to use the restroom. Jensen's eyes flashed at this and Jared could tell he didn't like it, didn't want him to go off on his own but there was no help for it. It would look far too strange if he insisted on following Jared's every step like a lovelorn suitor.

“Be quick,” was all he said but Jared heard the unspoken “Be careful” underneath his words as clear as day.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered and Jensen nodded in satisfaction.

The communal bathroom set aside for the use of all slaves, both visiting and those in residence, was inconveniently located on the second floor and about as far from the main living areas downstairs as it was possible to get. He wasn't surprised to find the room already occupied. In fact, he'd counted on it. There were several slaves lining the walls near the sinks, obviously hiding out in this place of relative privacy for a short while before they had to return to their duties.

He nodded at them as he went into a stall, then waited for someone to approach him as he washed his hands afterwards.

He didn't have long to wait.

Of the three that he talked with that morning, he learned nothing more exciting than Maria's owner had an unhealthy obsession with dolls, Spenser’s owner smoked two packs a day or more, while Angel's seemed to be more than a little infatuated with her. Still, it was a start. Jensen hadn't suggested this part of the plan, in fact Jared was fairly sure he'd object strenuously if he knew what he was up to, but the fact was he was in an unparalleled position to learn things that could be very helpful to Jensen and Misha and others in the organization.

Slaves were _notorious_ gossips. And owners rarely censored what they said around the ubiquitous slave, never seeming to see them as independent creatures with functioning ears and brains.

As he was leaving, Angel brushed one hand over his back and he remembered to flinch in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

“Oh! I'm sorry,” she said, and Jared believed she meant it. “I just.” She stopped and took his hand in hers, so very gently. “I heard about last night. And I know, _everyone_ knows how Master Ackles is. Was it very bad?” And she was looking at his back with real tears in her eyes and Jared didn't see this game of pretend as fun anymore.

“I'm okay,” he said, injecting a high false note in his voice. “I'll be okay, don't worry about me.”

Angel didn't look convinced which was exactly what he wanted, so why did he feel so rotten as he left?

Jensen, of course, picked up on his mood right away when he returned. At the first opportunity he pulled Jared aside. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, unconsciously echoing Angel's words and causing Jared to flinch a bit in response. “Jared, you have to tell me if anyone did anything to you,” he said more urgently, eyes raking over Jared's body as though looking for proof that he was okay.

“Nothing happened,” Jared said, barely moving his lips as he spoke. “Promise,” he added as Jensen didn't look convinced.

Jensen studied him narrowly before finally releasing his arm with a frown. One of the other players, someone Jared didn't know, came over and clapped Jensen on the shoulder.

“Good grief, man, I think you've made your point. I'm pretty sure he can go take a piss without getting into trouble, so lighten up.”

A general murmur of agreement went through those within earshot and Jensen seemed to know he was in danger of overplaying his hand. “You have to keep them on a short leash,” he said with a bright, false smile, “or they won't know who's in charge.”

“No danger of that, I'm sure,” the man said and went back to the game. Which was what everyone wanted in the first place, Jared reasoned. He was pretty sure there was no one present that was actually concerned about his well being.

As the guests continued their game, Jared hung back and watched them play. He was lazily scanning the crowd when he spotted the boy from last night, the one that had supposedly gotten him into trouble, watching him from across the room. The boy flushed when he realized he'd been seen staring and turned away to talk someone nearby.

There were no further incidents; at least, not until later that evening.

They were on their way back to their room when Jensen stopped, frowning.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, then ran towards a nearby doorway without waiting for an answer. Jared hurried as best he could, cursing his game leg the whole way, and arrived just in time to see Jensen pulling a boy away from a young slave girl, who was surrounded and backed against a wall by a small group of freemen. Jared felt sick as he recognized the girl as Angel.

“Idiots!” Jensen spat. “Don't you know who this one belongs to? Senator Ketchem. Unless you _want_ to spend the next five years in a labor camp, I'd suggest you pick your party favors more carefully.

The group that Jared now realized was made up of the wolf pack backed off reluctantly at first, then with real fear on their face as Jensen's words began to sink in. One turned on the boy that had been closest to Angel, presumably the instigator. “If you've gotten us in trouble, asswipe, I'm going to...”

But Jared wasn't listening to that. He was busy helping Angel up and back into the hallway where she wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked. She shook her head no but Jared wasn't sure he should believe her. Her tunic, longer than his but minus the leggings, was torn and disheveled. Even more disturbingly, her face had a blank shocky cast to it. Luckily Jensen came back out about then and took over, as Jared was frustratingly limited in what he could accomplish.

“Where is your owner?” he said, because of course that's what someone like the person Jensen was supposed to be would ask. “She should be dealing with this, not me.”

“I don't know, Sir,” Angel said and Jared felt a flash of anger towards Jensen for his rough handling of the girl, for all that he knew very well the reasons behind it.

“What room are you in?” he asked next and when she told him, proceeded to lead them to it. Angel looked devastated when his knock went unanswered. She didn't look at all reassured when she realized they were now going to their room, instead.

“Don't be afraid,” Jared whispered to her as they walked behind Jensen, Angel clutching his hand tightly. “I promise nothing's going to happen to you.” Angel nodded but didn't look in the least convinced by his words. Jared really couldn't blame her.

Jensen grabbed a passing household slave and gave her the task of tracking down the missing owner before continuing on to their room. Once there Jared, at Jensen's behest, led her into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Jensen wisely kept his distance and sat on the bed, presumably to watch TV. Jared found a safety pin in Jensen's shaving kit and managed to make her clothing more presentable, enough to get by for now at any rate.

“Do you want to talk about?” he asked after a minute. Angel was sitting on the vanity, looking much more composed now to Jared's relief.

“Nothing happened. Really. I mean it was going to but then you came along and I feel a little silly now. Although I do wish Mistress was here.”

“I'm sure it won't be long,” Jared said, although he didn't know any such thing, of course. Angel seemed to know empty reassurances when she heard them because she smiled at him a little ruefully.

“I'm really okay, you know. Nothing happened.” Jared wondered if she thought repeating it made it true. And who was he to say she was wrong, anyway?

“You should probably go to your owner, now. I don't want you to get in trouble over me,” Angel said and she actually sounded worried about him now, which threw him enough that he couldn't answer for a long minute. But he knew it would probably look strange if he _did_ linger, supposedly neglecting his demanding owner, so he just answered, “Okay.”

He ducked back in just a few seconds later with a pillow and blanket. “In case it takes a while,” he said, “you can sleep in the tub. If you want.” Then he leaned in close as if imparting a secret, “and the door locks from the inside.”

Angel nodded in gratitude and Jared stopped outside the door long enough to hear the latch snap into place. Hopefully she'd feel safe enough to relax, at least for now.

“Is she okay?” Jensen asked in an undertone when Jared came back into the room, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“I think so.”

A knock at the door brought the news that Angel's owner had yet to be located but a note was left in her room, apprising her of the situation.

“Guess all we can do is wait.” Jensen gestured at the bathroom door. “Is she going to stay in there all night?” He dropped his voice down a register. “And do you think she can hear us?”

“Can't see how, not with the TV on anyway. And if we talk softly. But she's probably ensconced for the duration. I know _I'd_ feel safer behind a locked door if it were me.”

Jensen glanced at the bathroom door. “It feels strange though, leaving her in there like that.” he paused before adding, “I felt like an ass with her earlier, too.”  
  
“You mean because you didn't hold her hand and tell her everything's going to be okay?”

Jensen's face said he suspected a trap but he agreed anyway. “Um. Yes.”

“Like I did.”

“Yes.”  
  
“But it was you that chased off those assholes. _I_ couldn't have done that. And if you hadn't, it would've gone way, way worse for her.”

“I know. I know what you're saying, just...” He sighed, leaning back on one elbow. “I guess we should wait up.”

“Awhile, yes, I'd think.”

To pass the time, Jared suggested another game of cards but Jensen turned him down flat, saying he was in no mood to be hustled tonight. Eventually they settled on watching TV.

“This is stupid,” Jensen announced twenty minutes into a show, flicking the remote as he tried and failed to find something else he deemed worth watching.

With anyone else, Jared would have protested, because he was actually enjoying the show they'd been watching. He wasn't sure _why_ he sometimes held back with Jensen; logically he knew he'd never hurt him for simply speaking his mind or anything else, really, but it was hard overcoming the habits ingrained into him during his formative years. The world was made up of three kinds of people for him these days, slaves, freemen, and the freemen who owned you. In general you could be yourself with the former, walked on eggshells around the second category, and didn't dare breathe wrong around the latter.

“I was watching that,” Jared said without thinking, the words forced out by his frustration with himself. He held his breath and waited even as he _knew_ that nothing was going to happen.

“Seriously?” Jensen asked. Without another word he switched it back to the program they'd been watching.

Another half hour in and Jared was ready to admit Jensen was right. This movie actually _was_ stupid. Besides which, there were better ways to spend an evening. Last night had gone pretty well, maybe it was time for a repeat performance. This time Jensen let out a startled omph as Jared straddled him before taking the initiative, pulling Jared down for a long, hot kiss.

“My turn,” he said when they came up for a breather and turned the tables on Jared with a quick flip, putting him on the bottom this time. Jared had about a second to be inordinately pleased at this turn of events before he slid off the bed and landed on the floor. Hard.

“Ow,” he said from underneath Jensen, who'd had a much softer landing thanks to him being a human cushion.

“Shit, Jared, are you okay?” Jensen asked, climbing off him with an almost comically worried frown.

“Ow,” Jared repeated, in case he hadn't been entirely clear the first time.

“Can you sit up?” Jensen asked and started running hands over him in a decidedly non sexy way.

“I'm fine.” Jared said and sat up to prove this point. Only he may have been a little premature, as his bad leg had gotten twisted slightly in the fall.

“Can you put weight on it?” Jensen asked and yes, yes he could, but it hurt like hell. This was probably not good.

“It's probably just a strain,” Jared said, “It's happened before.”  
  
Jensen was all for getting him checked out anyway until Jared reminded him they'd have a hard time explaining why the person Jensen was pretending to be was fussing over such a minor injury. He'd just gotten settled onto the bed and the throbbing was starting to subside a bit when there was a knock at the door. Without hesitation, Jared began stripping off his shirt.

Jensen stared at him, clearly wondering if he'd lost his mind in the fall.

“Making it look real,” Jared said and Jensen got on board right away, stripping off as well. He didn't stop with his shirt, however, and was soon standing there as naked as the day he was born. It wasn't exactly how Jared had pictured this moment but then again, life was full of surprises. Jensen wrapped a sheet around him toga style and made sure Jared was covered from the waist down before opening the door.

A middle aged woman stood there, hand upraised to knock again, mouth open in surprise. Although whether it was from Jensen's attire or lack of it, or the way he yanked open the door in obvious anger, Jared couldn't say.

“What?” he barked.

“I'm here for Angel,” she said and Jared resolutely did not laugh or even smile at the look of surprise on Jensen's face. He'd bet anything he'd completely forgotten the girl's presence in their room, her problems being driven out of his conscious mind by Jared's.

“Oh. Right. Well, come in,” he added ungraciously just as the bathroom door flew open.

“Mistress!” Angel said, her voice muffled by her owner's clothing as she buried her face against her neck and shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you alright? Did this animal hurt you?” she said and the look she gave Jensen should have by all rights incinerated him where he stood.

“No, no, Mistress. He helped me,” she said but there was an underlying tone that her owner seemed to read as deception. It was clear she thought her slave was being coerced into lying to cover up whatever had actually happened and when she left it was with many threats of retaliation if one hair on Angel's head had been harmed.

“You've got enough there to keep you busy,” she said before leaving, glancing at Jared who hadn't moved from his spot in the bed. “Stay away from _my_ girl!”

Jared was pretty sure the door slam woke up anyone who wasn't already up and listening to the fight taking place in their room.

“Can she really send you to a labor camp?” Jared asked once the coast was clear.

Jensen was busy replacing his improvised clothing with actual sleep gear, so his voice was muffled as he answered. “Maybe. If she doesn't mind falsifying evidence and pulling in every favor anyone's ever owed to her. Or just bribing enough people.” His head popped out of the neck hole of his shirt in time to catch Jared's worried expression. “But that's not going to happen. She's upset right now, once she calms down enough to listen to Angel, she'll figure out who she should really blame.”

Jared wasn't so sure about that. In his experience it wasn't at all unusual for the convenient scapegoat to get the blame over the actual guilty party. He didn't mention this to Jensen, however, who was back to fussing over his leg. It wasn't until he started talking about sending Jared out of the country ahead of schedule so the doctor he had lined up there could start working on him now instead of later that Jared put his foot down.

Gently, of course.

“Why don't we see what it's like in the morning?” he suggested. “It'll probably be all better.” And it _would_ be, or at least appear to be. Jared was very good at hiding pain and weakness.

Jensen grudgingly agreed and eventually joined him in bed. The playful erotic mood from earlier was irretrievably gone, however, and they did nothing more than sleep.

By mutual unspoken consensus they left early the next morning, without even pausing for breakfast. Jensen was thanking their host – a man old enough to be Jensen's father, if not grandfather, without a hint of irony in his voice for the lovely stay while Jared stood back and did his best to not show how much pain he was in. It would be better tomorrow, especially if he could lay his hands on a heating pad and maybe even a muscle relaxer or two, and Jensen need never know how bad it was.

Apparently he wasn't a good an actor as he'd thought.

“You're hurt,” a light female voice said from just behind his left shoulder. “More than before.”

Jared turned slightly to see Angel watching him with worry plain on her all too expressive face.

“It's not that bad,” he said and winced as a twinge chose that exact moment to make him a liar.

Angel's expression didn't change but Jared knew she hadn't missed his movement. She stepped closer, until her lips were almost brushing against Jared's ear. “I told Mistress about you last night. How kind you were to me and how badly you are being treated. She's agreed to try and buy you from your owner.”

Before he could come up with a way to gently dissuade her without giving anything away, Jensen spoke up. Jared hadn't even noticed his approach, which didn't say much for his powers of observation this morning.

“Time to go,” he snapped, eying Angel suspiciously before walking away with the obvious expectation of being followed. Hiding pain, Jared discovered in short order, was pretty well impossible when trying to walk without limping all while carrying a suitcase. With any luck, Jensen hadn't noticed.

He was sitting in the car, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently as Jared put the case in the trunk and climbed into the front seat.

“Doctor, tomorrow,” he said, before they'd even left the property. Jared sighed, because he really _was_ making too big a deal out of this, even as he couldn't help but feel a little blossom of warmth somewhere in his midsection. It really was nice to have so much concern being directed his way. Colin had cared about him, in his way, but Jared knew for a fact that he'd never notice he was having difficulties unless a broken limb or blood was involved.

“Okay,” was all he said in response.

Jensen slanted him a look that said they were coming back to this topic later before asking, “So what did the girl want?”

“Angel convinced her owner to buy me from you.”

Jensen's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “She's trying to rescue you?” 

Jared nodded and surreptitiously massaged his leg as he spoke. “Yeah.”

“What did you tell her?”  
  
“Nothing. There wasn't time.”

Jensen shrugged. “It's no big deal. I'll just turn the offer down. Here,” he said and passed Jared a bottle of pills. “It's just Tylenol but it should get you through today. Let me know if you need something stronger.”

Jared took the bottle without a word.

They were almost home when Jensen got the call on his cell. Jared only heard one side of the conversation but it was clear something had happened, and whatever it was wasn't good.

“That was Misha,” Jensen said after disconnecting. “Thomas and the courier escorting him have disappeared.”

 

 


End file.
